Crimson Stained Shards of Memory
by Ragweed
Summary: When a resurrected Dracula begins to contact Gabriel in his dreams, it will send the Hunter on a new journey to uncover his past and silence Dracula. Right the ultimate wrong. No matter what horrors of memories it uncovers. (summary inside)
1. Prolouge

Ragweed: Well, this is my first Van Helsing fiction. I saw the movie and I thought it absolutely rocked! But I thought that is was funny that the only thing that could kill Dracula was a werewolf bite. I was wondering why only a werewolf bite could kill him, so I came up with this explanation. I've given a detailed summary because I don't think I would impress you with the one and a half lines Fanfiction.net feels that we can summarize the story in.  
As for catigories, there are a few more then Action/Adventure and Drama. There's a lot of angst and sci-fi, so, if your not into dark (VERY dark for future chapters) writing, you my not want to read.  
Anyway, there is no real romance in this story, I couldn't write romance to save my life. And there is an actual plot to the story so please review. Hope you enjoy it. =)

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Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Prologue: Not all Things Should be Forgotten

Summary: It is finally over. Transylvania is out of sight and out of mind. And Gabriel Van Helsing, the great demon hunter, is ready to forget about everything. The cold, vampires, werewolves, and Anna. But when a resurrected Dracula begins to communicate to Gabriel in his dreams, he soon finds that there is a whole of part to the legend that he has yet to uncover. And in doing that, Gabriel must uncover his own dreaded memories. And he better find out soon, before Dracula can fulfill his own task. A task given to him by someone more powerful than anything Van Helsing as come up against so far.

.:I:.

"And the corpses will rot with memory until nothing is remains of this Fateful Day."--_Memories Lost, _Author Unknown

.:I:.

The werewolf crashed into the vampire, pinning the massive winged creature back into a metal guard-rail that encompassed the shoot of the tower-fall. Claws and fangs scrambled and scratched stone in desperation as the tower was filled with flying sparks that rained down from the countless wires and machinery that filled the tower. Shrieks of pain and horror echoed of the stone of icy tower that pierced the Transylvanian winter. The two creatures struggled with each other, the vampire screeched and the massive brown werewolf roared with a cry that shook the very stone of the tower so that the ice encasing it fell to the oblivion beneath it. The werewolf's bite sunk deep into the vampire's neck, drawing black blood from the Count's body. Dracula flared his massive, grotesquely muscular, wings in shrieking pain as black blood that was not his own poured without end from his neck.

"Damn you, Gabriel!" the demon screeched as he thrashed around in agonizing pain. Fire erupted in the vampire's body and screams of agony and pain escaped Dracula's fang-lined throat. The werewolf leaped back, its task complete.

An unimaginable anguish filled the vampire, which was ironic, given that he was the dead reliving, yet consumed by an unfathomable pain and suffering, Dracula was. His colossal wings shrivelled from his back, the claws from his hands shrunk and the needle-like fangs disappeared from his jaw. For a moment, he was Count Vladislaus Drakulya, then an invisible wind engulfed him that tore away his flesh and bones to dust. Still his cries of agony and carried it down the endless downward shaft of the tower-fall, ashes of a vampire, swirling and mingling with his own blood, twirling and spinning in the dark like Black Snow.

.:I:.

Carl and Gabriel had left the snow-capped Carpathian Mountains behind by now and continued South-westwards in the thick greens forests of southern Europe back to Rome and St. Peter's church with the Holy Order. The plodding clop of their horse's hooves had become a dull thud as the ground underfoot became rich, upturned forest soil as opposed to the stark, harsh clack that had followed them on the mountain's rock. This brought a blissful and greatly welcomed silence to the pair. Grounds between the two had been tense ever since they rode from Vaseria.

They'd been travelling for about five days on horseback and hadn't even breached the Transylvanian border. Mostly they travelled without speaking, neither wanting to discuss wait had went on in Transylvania. With Dracula and his brides dead, Gabriel saw no reason to remain in Transylvania. He would return to the abbey in Rome and continue with his life. He'd never had a true home from what he could remember, and before he even reached the borders of Italy he was certain that he would forget all about Transylvania, and the vampires, and werewolves, and Dracula…and Anna.

"You know what I don't understand," said Carl out-of-the-blue, jolting Gabriel out of his own thoughts.

"What!?" snapped Gabriel, not liking his thoughts disturbed.

"It's about Dracula," said the friar, completely oblivious to his companion's temper.

"What about him?!" shouted Gabriel, his voice drenched in hate and sorrow. He loathed the winged-demon with every fibber of his soul and every thought of his mind. It was Dracula's fault that Anna was gone, that's wait he had told himself. It was all he could do to keep the grief of her death from over-whelming him entirely.

"Well," began Carl, his cheerful tone ever-undaunted by Gabriel's outburst, "if you look at him and the texts and writings and inscriptions that I discovered in the Valerious Manor Tower, there is a whole part of everything that doesn't make any logical sense."

Gabriel turned to look at his friend with an almost humorous look on his face, "You've traveled to Transylvania, fought werewolves, seen moving paintings, walked through a mirror, and have slain the most powerful and demonic vampire in all of history, and you're _still_ looking at the world through logic?!"

Carl cocked his head high rather smug look on his face, "Well I need _something _to keep my sanity," said Carl as he and Gabriel came under a curtain of shadows as the canopy of the forest enveloped them. "Otherwise I'd be like you," he added with a self-satisfied smile.

Gabriel gave a half-hearted smirk but fell silent soon-after.

"Well anyway," Carl went on, "the thing I don't understand is how Dracula was killed."

"The bloody beast is dead," Gabriel snapped quickly. "What more do you need to know?" Gabriel's voice was angry and hostile but after he had spoke, Gabriel looked away into the shady, green woods that they rode through, not enjoying the terrible memories that were beginning to circling in his mind.

"Yes, but how?"

"You were there were you not! I killed the damned hellspawn! I tore his damned throat out and ripped him to shreds!"

"Yes but--"

"It doesn't matter!" shouted Gabriel.

Carl, a little taken aback, fell silent as the horses rode onward at a slow, lagging pace. He could make a good guess at what was bothering his friend and decided it best to not say anymore. The friar looked down at the neck of his horse. The pure black horse with silver armour along its flanks, haunches and head. The horse's legs and shoulders were very muscular and strong. Its long, coarse, silver mane draped nearly down to its shoulders, while the horse's tail was trimmed well above its hawks. A beautiful Transylvania horse it was, by far one of the fastest breeds in all of Europe, faster then those of the Spaniards or Arabs easily. It had been one of Anna's horses, Carl knew that.

As they rode onward through the lush forest, Carl couldn't help but feel a twinge of grief for Anna. She had been beautiful, brave and clever. He himself couldn't help but like Anna, she was too independent not to like, but he knew how much Van Helsing missed her. He hadn't been as alive as he had once been since they left Transylvania. He had become distant and unresponsive. Carl sighed inwardly; he was truly beginning to worry about his friend, more so then he had ever been. He had eaten very little since they had left and his skin became pale and thin. But he tried not to worry about it, he knew his friend, he would bounce back in a few days, he hoped anyway.

The two rode on in silence until they stopped that night. Sheltered by the limbs of giant pine and fir trees, they tied their horses to the underbrush of the forest and set up a small camp. The moon cast a silver veil down upon the night-blackened forest, making all tranquility bind the two into a deep, undisturbed sleep. Soon, as the two men slept, the dieing embers of their fire dwindled and died away until a thin ribbon of smoke rose into the indigo night.

As the caw of a crow rang out through the forest, Gabriel turned over off his back, he felt the rocks and twigs underneath him shift slightly. As he lay half awake, the old interlocking triangular scars on his back began to burn with an icy pain. That was funny, he had almost forgotten that they existed. They were old wounds that spread almost across his entire back. They were unnaturally precise wounds, creating three perfect triangles. Two of the scars were next to each other, there base corners interlocking with each other. On top of the others there was another perfect triangle, its two base corners interlocking with the tips of the other two. They were artificially perfect, created by something unnatural. They were deep wounds, they had never covered over entirely. Spreading along the triangular scars with icy fire Gabriel winced slightly. He didn't know how he had gotten them, and he preferred not to think of it. He had many injuries and scars from what he did, why would these ones be any different? It would just bring back more unwanted memories.

But somewhere, deep within his lasting heart, Gabriel could sense _him_ stirring in the darkness, whatever life-force he had had begun to rekindle, and he could tell he would come for him. It was not over, not by a long shot…. And he would be coming for him. It was something, something he suppose to remember. He could remember Dracula's words clear as day, 'I can give you back your memories!'

'Some things are better left forgotten,' he had replied. But not all things that are forgotten, should be…. Maybe he should remember, maybe it would be better. But what would he find out? What evil things would he find that he had done? With everything he had already done, all the evil he had already murdered from the world, he didn't want any more guilt, he already had been given his fair share of guilt for seven lifetimes. But he couldn't remember anything else right now, he was too tired.

The moon splayed a sleepy, silver mist over the forest, lulling its creatures to sleep. And soon, all that could be heard in the silver light was the odd call of a raven, and the deep, steady breathing of two black Transylvanian horses.

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Ragweed: Ah, the prologue, short but sweet. Yes, I know, a very boring chapter, but I need to set up the scene here. (Don't I sound like I know what I'm talking about) You my have noticed that I started this chapter with an excerpt of a book. The story _Memories Lost _was never published. It was actually an old manuscript I found in my attic. It isn't finished an I have no idea who wrote it or even where it came from. (My family has lived in the same house for like over fifty years.) I like to start my chapters with excerpts from books poems or songs. 

Ah yes, many of you are probably wondering about the 'interlocking triangular scars' Well, that was a little detail that was in the original script, but didn't make it to the movie. It came from when Van Helsing first meets Dracula in Castle Frankenstein. I think it went something like:

"_Van Helsing: The Knights of the Holy Order knew all about you, so I guess it is no surprise that you would know all about me.  
Dracula: Oh, yes but it's much more then that. You and I go a long ways back Gabriel. I know why you have such horrible nightmares. I know about those horrific scenes of ancient battles past. I know how you received those triangular scars on your back."_

So I thought, hey, why not have some fun with this. So, that will also be part of the story. Well, the second chapter is going to be much more exciting, so drop a review and read on!


	2. Darkness Engulfing

Ragweed: Yeah, you actually came to chapter two! I'm so happy! Well at least you like me. Nobody likes me. Don't I sound pathetic?

Readers: Yeah…

Ragweed: Don't worry, I'm just being an idiot. So, I hope you reviewed the first chapter and I hope you liked it of course. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed, I can't make it better if you don't tell me what's wrong. If you want to flame, go ahead, I could use a laugh. But I hope you like it all the same. Anyway, in this chapter the plot actually starts to come out (kind of) so, yeah…read on!

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Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 1: Darkness Engulfing

"Catch me, as I fall,  
Say you're here and it's all over now,  
Speaking to the atmosphere,  
No one's here and I fall into myself,  
This truth, drives me, into, madness,  
I know I can stop the pain, if I will it all away…" _--'Whisper_' by Evanescence

.:I:.

Fire. All around wild dancing flames licked his sides, scorching him with red-hot lashes of pain. Yet he stood unaffected as the red flames dancing around him, for his own boiling anger within himself drowned out all other feeling from him. The scarlet and orange flames smothered him in a choking smog of heat and pain. The tips of the flames reach up much higher that he stood, making him consumed even more by the fires. Stark darkness hung high above in the emptiness where the raging glow of the angry inferno could not reach it. Endless, the fire was. Spreading in all directions forever, never braking or flickering. As was the blackness, blackness that reached without end upward and onward so that you felt like the smallest thing in all of history. The Fire was odd, unnatrual. Shades of every imaginable colour were smeered into the flames, deep scarlets, blushing pinks and roses, lightning-storm purples, deep-night indgos, oranges, yellows. Each burning with more pain the the last. Burning all that was pure and good to twisted, charred ashes of evil. Pain, fire, darkness, and alone, this truly was Hell.

_I'm back. But you don't remember me do you. It hasn't been that long has it?_

He knew _he_ was there, watching him, testing him, waiting for him to brake, waiting for him to give in. He could sense _him_ there. The fire was _his_ doing and he knew it. Why did he feel that he had been here already, that this had already happened? Why did everything seem so familiar. Why did his hollow body hurt so much? How long had he been here, in this place? What had happened to him? What was going to happen to him now?

I must say you've outlasted the pain longer than I thought you would…

He could here the voice, somewhere in the back of his mind. Taunting him. Who was it? What did they want? He dared not move though. He had lived too long to begin trusting anyone. His green blazing eyes had become black and hollow. His cold, porcelain-white skin remained untouched by the fire. His long black hair was still pulled back off his smooth, pale face. His golden-embroider jacket and cloak still remained as black as death, while the silver earring and jewellery shone in the white light of the fire.

His mind said nothing to him, as if his life had been sucked from his very soul, or what was remained of it. But even still, pain and anger still stirred within his hollow body. His hunger for life hadn't been stifled by his death. Where hot, sweet, blood had once dripped fresh from his fangs, now clean, pearl-white teeth pierced from his upper-lip. How long had it been, since he'd tasted the running, dripping blood that flowed, oh so freely through a human's body? He could not remember. Or he didn't want to anyway. He guessed he didn't need to drink the heart's-life anymore, but the craving for the sweet bitterness of the liquid still burned deep within him. Though you could not tell, his black eyes stared through the fires, looking beyond them into nothing. Nothing reflected behind them. He didn't move. Why should he? What would that do? Only encourage the one who was watching him, it would only bring the pain faster. And he didn't want the pain anymore. And the longer he evaded the pain, the deeper and deeper he fell into himself.

_I've grown tired of waiting for you this time…_

But then, with an invisible wind, the flames parted and swept his billowing black cloak around the Count's body tightly. So tightly, it could have very well strangled him. He didn't flinch. Nothing could break him anymore. Unblinking black eyes gazed absently onward into the fire as the blaze smothered around him once more in its unyielding pain.

_Does it hurt yet? This hasn't even begun to hurt…_

_He_ was testing him, and Dracula knew it. He refused to let _him_ break him. He would not give in, not again. He felt the fires part once more and a cold wave of icy chills came over the Count, freezing the blood in his very veins solid in place. The cold gripped him like a vice, squeezing him tighter, tighter until he couldn't breathe and his ribs felt as if they would crush inward into his body.

_Can you feel me yet? I know you know I'm here…_

Yet his eyes remained in their unfeeling black gaze into nothingness, though the pain should through clearly on his face. He had endured so much here already. He refused to let himself be broken. But…it was cold, so very cold. _No!_ some dieing part of his mind rebelled. _You won't give in! No matter how painful it will become, for this was only the beginning of what was yet to come. _He didn't know why, but he new that worse was yet to come. Without command, his black cloak constricted tighter around his body, as the cold began to seep through his skin into his dead core. Soon, the cold stung his pale skin in agony as the fires swirled and danced and laughed nearby, afraid to come closer to the numbing cold wave.

_You cannot withstand me. Though it will be amusing to see you try…_

Dracula began to tremble under the cold; he could feel it begin to take him. Needles of frozen pain were driven deep within his flesh as the cold waves intensified further still. His black unseeing eyes began to glaze over as hot tears of pain stung the back of his eyes. The icy grip was coming tighter now, and Dracula began to break. He knew he couldn't withstand this much longer. The fire retreated further back away from Dracula; chased further away by the unnatural cold, and soon it could be seen the ground was nothing more the more empty blackness that the fire danced upon.

_Do you know what you cost me? Do you know how much time you've simply wasted!_

Frost began to collect on his porcelain skin as the cold began to freeze the air around itself. Stinging tears began to flow unending from his black eyes, down his angular cheeks until they fell to the invisible floor and became nothing more then evaporated ribbons of steam. His black cloak pulled tighter around him by an invisible force. By now, any living thing would certainly have been strangled by the pressure. Yet he couldn't die, and not being able to be released just made the pain worse.

_Damn you, Vladislaus! You've destroyed everything!_

The climax was coming, the ultimate pain. Dracula closed his unseeing eyes and bit his lip with his own fangs to keep from crying out. Icy fire blazed in his hollow body. Dracula tensed as the long fingers of ice crept up around his head, dragging him down deep under the midnight pools of darkness. With a final, intense instant of stabbing icy torture the flames flared backward even more and a frozen blue light emanated from Dracula's body. A shockwave ran through the fire, dwindling the inferno as the wave traveled outward. A deep rumble was heard over the roar of the flames as the shockwave travelled out of detection.

The light flashed and died. The cold blue light dwindled and faded quickly snapped out. The frosted grip released him and Dracula collapsed to his knees, tears of hot pain flowing from his eyes. He crouched over himself, curling tight against the ragging fires. Yet he made not a sound, not a sob, nor whimper; he would not degrade himself further. His black cloak released its grip and fluttered out around him until it swaddled him in an eerie cradle of death. He gripped his sides tightly as the fires melted away the stabbing cold pain and replaced it with a familiar burning throb that rattled his hollow body.

_I told you, it was useless to withstand for this long. All you did was bring more pain to yourself. Though I can say it was amusing to watch you suffer._

He had broken. Despite all his efforts the torture had been too great. Dracula could feel the fires begin to creep closer. His white skin remained has cold as death however, no matter how close the fires would come again. He shivered uncontrollably and he gripped his sides tighter as loose strands of black hair fall in front of his tear-stained, face. He curled up tighter and bent over himself even more, trying vainly to keep the pain away.

Fire engulfed him in an orange-white blaze, swallowing up his broken spirit and body. Now he was to remain here, submerged within a pool of never-ending darkness until he pined away in the fires, eons from now. And Dracula knew that _he_ would enjoy ever minute of it. _He_ would enjoy watching Dracula suffer in ever-lasting pain and solitude.

But maybe, perhaps, just maybe….

Dracula sensed _him_ before he heard _him_. A chilling cold aura of blackened ice that radiated from _him_ in icy blue beams of unforgiving, cold light, a feeling very out of place for the ruler of the fires of Hell. _He_ moved in sharp, swift movements, darting here and there as the fires danced in the darkness. _He_ never stayed in one spot, instead he dashed around constantly, only to keep his captor confused. Zipping this way and that, slipping in and out of the dancing flames. _He_ had more fun watching them suffer in confusion.

"Hello Vladislaus," _His_ hissing voice slithered into the hunched-over Dracula's skin making him shiver ever so slightly. Oh, how he hated that voice. "I see you've come back to us. I told you all it would bring to you was more pain. You took a long time to reach us again. After four-hundred years! Four-hundred unfeeling years of pain and hunger. Hated and feared by all. Locked away in an icy exile, never to be accepted in the world." The voice raised in octaves until Dracula had to cover his pointed, bat-like ears to keep from screaming, "And you still have failed to kill him!" The fires flared with _his_ rage and Dracula cowered further within himself.

"You pathetic excuse! I gave you wings to kill as you wish, another life to reign terror upon the world, and you _still_ have failed to kill him!"

Dracula's black eyes filled with unworldly fear. He'd never known fear, and the simple feeling of it scared him even more. But he did not move, he remained crouched inside the ring of flames, no longer having the will to do anything burn within him. He had no spirit anymore; he didn't need to keep his empty veins flowing with the heart's-life anymore.

"I should lock you deep within the flames, never to come out! You cost me _four-hundred years, Dracula_!"

_He_ charged at Dracula. _His_ body was distorted and completely consumed in blazing Hell's fire. Fire that shone with the white heat of the purest form of absolute evil. Never could the Prince of Darkness be described in words of this world. _He_ was evilly beautiful, yet shone with the utmost evil that spread far beyond the reaches of any imagine, beyond any dream. Flames of every colour trailed from _his_ body as he shot through the nothingness of the dark. Reds, purples, blues, whites, oranges, yellows, the flames twisted, thrashed and whipped about wildly as they trailed from _his_ body. _His_ red, scarlet eyes boring deep within Dracula's broken body. But _he_ didn't strike Dracula, instead _he_ sailed clear over his head into the fires on the opposite side of the vampire. Fire on the other side enveloped _him_ and _he_ disappeared. Dracula didn't dare move, he knew _him_ too well to even dare breathe.

Silence. The fire stopped, froze in place, even the fire didn't dare move with _his_ fury raised so. Soon, the silence deepened and grew thick and heavy and Dracula could feel himself begin to tremble violently. He hated the silence. _Hated _it! He would give anything to have a sound, something to blot out the deadness of the empty space and silence. Yet _he_ was not going to leave Dracula alone for long…. _He_ wanted to see Dracula _beg _for the silence. A hideous wail of fury climbed into the darkness. Screeches that sprawled up, twisting up within themselves, making them sound more pain-filled still. Screams and desperate howls thousands of damned souls suddenly invaded Dracula's mind. Instantly his hands shot to his pointed ears trying to shut out the deafening sounds. But the Count's futile attempts to block the terrific wails were pointless, for he could not block out what was already in surging in his own mind. Screams of dieing lives stabbed in his mind. Howl's of pain and damnation that could kill. But over the dieing screams, he could hear with words as clear as the night.

_You do not deserve a second chance, Dracula! Yet I have more use for you! You will do my work this time! Your kind means nothing to me! Nothing! Your kin will all rot with my fires! But I need you Dracula, and you will do what I command this time!_

Clawing desperately on the sides of his skull, Dracula, again, bit his lip with his fangs to keep from screaming. Howling wails battered the vampire, unnerving calls of the dead, dieing and damned. He tore at his bat-like ears once in another pathetic attempt to end the ear-splitting torturing of the screeching and wails. With all hope drained from his hollow soul he let out his own pain-filled howl and--in a final flash of screaming fire, roaring noise, Hell--and his own world shattered into darkness.

.:I:.

Softness. Like feathers. Cold feathers. What was he laying on? How soft it was. How did he get here? He remembered it had been burning moments earlier, but now…. He tried to move, but he couldn't feel his body just yet. He couldn't even open his eyes. It was like his mind was trying to re-establish itself in his body after being asleep for a long time. He must try. He focused deeply. With a light tingling sensation, he could feel the nerves in his right arm come to life. He took in a deep breath and felt his lungs swell with pain as they too came to life once more. Dracula felt his chest swell with his lungs as they drew in air for the first time. His muscles ached strangely, as if it had been a long time since he had moved. The Count re-gathered his thoughts again and focused on his arm. The ends of his fingers twitched ever-so-slightly. Dracula could feel the rest of the nerves in his body spark to life somewhat. He could tell he was laying on his stomach, one arm folded underneath himself, one stretched out over the ground awkwardly. With a great effort, he pulled his outstretched arm in and folded it against his body. He shivered slightly. Why was he so cold? It wasn't an icy, frosted cold, just a gentle blow of winter that was beginning to stir in the land. The nerves surged in his body once more and suddenly he could feel the snow underneath him. It was a familiar land….

Exhausted by the small effort to fold his arm against himself, Dracula lay motionless for a while, eyes closed, waiting patiently in the winter for strength to return.

Soon, all time was lost…

Hours crawled by like years…

Numbness enveloped his body…

Dracula's mind drifted in endless darkness…

He didn't know how long he lay there…

But in the darkness of the unconscious mind, the faintest sound could be heard.

Dracula's eyes snapped open. His long, sensitive, ears twitched at the distant sound. It was a high, sweet sound, that carried over the snow-strung winds. The Count's eyes gradually became focused to the dim light of the winter night. From where he was, he could see the dull orange light of a small group of buildings of some kind, (houses maybe?) that bled into the soft purple-blue light of the night. A full moon lit the indigo sky, reflecting off the layer of snow that blanketed the ground, turning the soft snow a light glowing blue. Dracula's silky black hair lay splayed out on the snow, covering his eyes slightly. His eyes; they were no longer black, they had regained their blazing green colour that shone in all darkness. Eyes that could see the blood of a living creature coursing through its veins in pure darkness. And they blazed with hunger of something he could not get.

The Count's bat-like ears twitched again as the sweet, laughing sound came up over the fluttering snow. There were more sounds. Voices. Three. Two were sharp and spring-like, the other was somewhat duller, with a thickness to it. They were close and were coming closer. Minimal strength returned, Dracula placed a bare palm on the snow on either side of himself. With a silent strain, Dracula lifted himself from the snow. Even such a small effort sapped energy from his weakened body. Why was he so weak? With another great effort Dracula dragged his legs up underneath himself so that he was crouching on the snow. Suddenly, an overwhelming dizziness came over the Count. He swayed slightly, the strange unbalancing feeling that struck him subsided quickly and his green eyes snapped open again.

He took in a deep breath and stretched his legs straight. As he stood up, more dizziness came, this time on a greater scale. His legs beneath him began to waver and weaken. Dracula touched his forehead with his hand as he staggered for a moment. But his eyes caught something on his hand. He levelled his hand with his eyes and studied it. His skin was as pale as the snow around him. The empty veins in his wrist's should clear through his translucent skin. There was nothing under his skin, no colour to it. He needed the blood. That was it, that was why he was so weak, he needed to feed.

The voices came back. They came louder this time. He could make out words this time, vaguely, but they were there. It soon came to show that Dracula was standing on a snow bank at the side of a wide country road. Three children skipped and chased each other a little was down the hard frozen ground of the cart-trail from where Dracula stood. Two girls, one young, no more then four years, the other was as only a year younger then her brother, twelve years old. They laughed and screamed in glee as they chased one another in the joy of their game. Snow fluttered around them in the moonlight.

The entire scene struck Dracula with a bolt of remembrance, it was a scene he remembered well. Another bolt of recognition hit the vampire. The town just down the cart-trail was Vaseria, the old village that the still Valerious Manor loomed over. Dracula felt slight anger burn in his body, _Valerious_. The word rolled around in his skull and he cringed with hatred. Memories that he had so long kept concealed began to stir and wake and Dracula struggled to keep them locked away in the dark recesses of mind. He had been able to forget for so long, he had been stronger then it, he wouldn't give in. The fear wasn't true, fear was something only the weak, living felt; not an impenetrable demon that he was, not such an evil, heartless creature like himself, greatly feared Demon of the Fire.

Though no one was there to see it, Dracula's green eyes blazed in starvation. As the big, clumpy, snowflakes fluttered from the sky, the Count floated down to the frozen road, staying in the shadows as the children played. Oh, how he wanted blood, he wanted it, he craved it more than anything in the world. Its hot, sweet, metallic taste running down his throat. He craved for it. He craved for it more then anything. No. That was not true. There was one thing he desired moreso then anything. Life.

He started off down the road the children played. The snow had slowed somewhat, making for an almost clear night. His black cloak billowed out around him as strode forward, his green eyes thirsty for the heart's-life. At first, the children were too caught up in there game to notice the man with the porcelain skin and black pulled-back hair. But soon, the youngest girl stopped and starred back at him. Her ragged brown dress and curly blond hair and her sky-blue eyes. She was the symbol of all innocence. When her siblings noticed whom their younger sister was staring at, their games stopped and all three stood together, her siblings hand's tightly gripped the little girl's shoulders.

At first, Dracula thought he wouldn't remember how to speak. So long he had gone with out speech. But almost instantly, words came to his mouth. "Hello, young ones." His words lingered in the air like a poison. His smooth Transylvanian accent still curved his hiss-like words in all of his refined elegance.

The eldest daughter pushed her younger sister and older brother behind her. She wore simple clothes, dull in colour and torn on the edges. Compared to the aristocratic Dracula, she would be considered a pauper. Her eyes looked up at Dracula as her brother held on to her younger sister behind her. Although her stare with piercing, she said nothing.

"'Tis a little late to being playing games, my sweet." The Count's words where laced with a cocky smile as he stared down at the girl. "Tell me, why are you out so late…alone?"

"Me and my sister were going to the pine grove to the see the faeries," shouted the younger girl from behind her sister. "They only come out on a full moon, you know."

Dracula seemed only more amused and he wicked smile grew wider, "Faeries?" he echoed, as he saw the full moon peek though the mountaintops of the valley. "Surely, you have heard of the other creatures, far more dangerous monsters, that lurk in the woods after-dark. Werewolves and such, yes?"

"No," answered the older girl firmly, "The werewolves have left here. The vampires are gone too."

Dracula's amused smile vanished as he heard the word. He found, to his surprise that he was barely able choke it out, "V-vampires?"

"Yes," answered the girl in a strong voice. "The great Van Helsing came here nearly a month ago and killed them, Dracula and his brides. I was there in the village that day, I saw him shoot down Marishka that day. I saw him kill the werewolves as well"

Dracula felt an uncontrolled instinct surge in his body. His green eyes turned an icy blue and he seized the girl by the throat and lifted her off her feet into the air. The girl clawed at Dracula's gloved hand vainly. The boy shouted and the younger girl became to scream.

"You and your family would like to think that wouldn't you! We've been whipped from the face of the Earth, like we never existed!" his words became a terrible hiss as the girl gasped for air in his grasp. "Well, you were all wrong! That damned soul Van Helsing could not undo gift had been given to me. You should consider yourself lucky that you will not live to see the day when I destroy all of Transylvania and feed upon your people's blood until there is nothing left but bloodless corpses, impaled high in the freezing air on three-pronged pikes!"

"Liam," gasped the girl to her brother, "Liam, run!"

Dracula roared and two, long, ivory fangs grew from his canines. His green eyes suddenly blazed with an icy blue frost and flashed with manic severity. Black claws dug into the girls neck as the true animal inside Dracula broke from it's suppressed shell. Something of this sight would have been considered manic by any mortal standard. Another roar escaped Dracula's body, this time the very night air itself screamed at the boy who jolted out of shock and he turned and grabbed his younger sister.

"Run!"

Fangs bared, Dracula angled his head at the whimpering girl's neck. Pearl white daggers broke into her fair skin. Sweet blood poured in to the vampire's mouth. Dracula inhaled deeply, drawing blood from deep within her body out unto himself. Shimmering red liquid fell in ribbons from the girl's neck as Dracula drew blood from further within her. As her dying heart beat franticly, it forced her blood faster and faster around in her body, allowing Dracula to drink it deeply. The Count's frosted blues eyes flashed open in absolute ecstasy. The heart's-life began to settle in his own veins; for he could only survive on blood that was not his. The thick, warm, scarlet blood, still hot from her body's heat fell down his throat in complete starvation. Blood flared around in his veins, charging his body with a fake life. A life to sustain his own.

He remembered now. He remembered what _he_ had said. That Dracula was now to do _his_ bidding. Dracula was not free anymore of _him_. A pang of disappear echoed off inside Dracula's hollow body and he let out a inaudible whimper, his fangs still lodged in the girl's neck. The vampire's lungs constricted and he whimpered again. His world faded to black and Dracula's head pounded with the fact that he wasn't free, that he could walk the Earth again, but he still wasn't alive. In pain, Dracula dug his talons into the flesh of the now limp body of the girl. As the bitter realization dawned on him: He had never truly been free had he?

Finally, he removed his fangs from the girl's neck and screamed in retaliation to the black night air. He dropped the dead girl's bloodless body the frozen ground. Blood stained the powdered snow, tarnishing the ground with claret stains that no amount of rainwater could every wash away. Dracula staggered for a moment, exhausted with his repletion. His cheeks were fuller now, and his pale porcelain skin flared with sudden colour of blood that was not his. His mouth was redder than ever, for his lips shimmered with fresh blood, which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran down his neck.

Dracula breathed heavily as if the rekindling of his new life fatigued him. Life? Could it be called that? It was a half-life, a fake life, a life that couldn't be sustained on it's own. It wasn't life, it was only an existence. They were similar, but they weren't the same, Dracula had learned that long ago. Dracula cringed with anger and beat a balled fist on the frozen ground. Gasping in realizing defeat, the vampire broke down in powerlessness. It all came flooding back to him. He could remember it all. He remembered the pain of the fires, and of the cold grip _he_ had crushed him with in the fires. He remembered Gabriel. He remembered Gabriel, and the pain of the bite. The bite that had damned him again. Again! Twice! And nothing had he had not been punished yet, for the great injustice _he _had caused.

That was all he remembered, the pain. And darkness. And everything that had happened to him before Gabriel had betrayed him. Gabriel…that unholy man. Dracula clenched his clawed hand into a fist. He would gave anything to crush Gabriel's skull in his talons. To see him scream in pain before he tore him to shreds. Dracula clasped his claws so tight they began to slice his own hand. He stopped his thoughts, he didn't want to think about Gabriel now. Perhaps everything wasn't Gabriel's fault, even if that's what he wanted to believe.

Dracula screamed again and massive wings sprouted from his back, his face distorted and his arms and legs grew grotesquely muscular, obsidian talons grew immeasurably long form his long feet and hands. Earth-shattering roars exploded form his throat. He flared his massive wings, the membrane of the bat-wings stretched taut between long bone fingers. Obsidian claws from his hands tore at the air. In one giant leap, the vampire soared up and onward into the indigo-velvet night. He knew where he must go. And Dracula rose up into the Darkness ever-engulfing.

* * *

Ragweed: Whoot! Blood-sucking! That was always something I didn't like about the movie. I mean, it's a movie with four--count them--_four _different vampires, and they have _one _blood-sucking scene. And you don't even get to see it! How wrong is that!? Okay, I know that there was **_major_** OOCness on Dracula's part in this chapter, especially early on. I can justify this! When you are tortured day after day in fire and stabbing cold and taunting voices, eventually your will and spirit will break. Even Dracula would loose it under torture by the Devil himself! So I promise that is going to be the only major OOCness. Anything else is unintentional. 

And as I said I would, I began this chapter with an excerpt from Evanescence, the awesomest (yes I know awesomest is not a word) band of all time! Well, does it fit with the chapter? That's the whole point to them…

Well, tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Next chapter will be up in a few days.


	3. Fire and Ice

Ragweed: Okay, I lied, there is going to be an itty-bitty-tiny-winy bit of romance in the story. I won't put you through the mental torture of having to actually reading anything, (Like I said, I can't write romance to save my life) but it's more reminiscing of a time an old time when life was good and…I'll shut up now. Well, the plot_ finally_ starts to pick up and gets far more interesting, so thanks for bearing with me this long! Enjoy! Oh yes, and thank you to the only reviewer, Beguile, I'm glad you enjoyed the first to chapters so much!

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 2: Fire and Ice

"Some say deep-sleep is dreamless, that we dream only when we have just fallen asleep, or are moments from waking. That sensation of dreaming is caused by racing brainwaves caused by the disturbance of the process of waking or falling asleep. Others say that we dream throughout the entire duration that we sleep, yet when we wake we remember only fragments and moments of the entire dream."--_The Plague Dogs, _Richard Adams

.:I:.

Gabriel crossed himself, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned."

"It's getting old, Van Helsing," said Carl as he pushed clumsily past his friend, knocking Gabriel back, and swung open the door to the confessions booth of the abbey and traveled down the torch-lit staircase leading under the abbey. "I would expect you of all people to realize that what you do is not evil. I'm sure the God forgives you."

"It's not as simple as that."

"Well I'll be damned if it isn't that simple," said Carl and he gave Gabriel a cheeky, smirk out of the corner of his eye as if to say, 'Yes, I know what I said.'

Gabriel rolled his eyes at his friend. "You wouldn't understand," he said as the two came into the bustling stone cavern of the Order. Monks scurried this way and that, going about there everyday business. Over in the arsenal, many of Carl's newest weapon works-in-progress remained untouched since they had left near three months ago. Carl let the large sack of weaponry, rations from the journey and other random things he had packed drop with a clatter to the limestone floor. As he did, Cardinal Jinette appeared from around the stone corner carrying a number of old text scrolls from the abbey's library.

"Ah, Van Helsing and Friar Carl," he announced with sweeping open arms, as he saw the two men. "I see you've returned from journey to Romania. And alive as well. That's always good."

"Yes, coming back alive was something I was hoping for," Carl said with a friendly smile.

"It is good to see you both again. I have already gotten word from Transylvania," said the Cardinal, a pleased smile forming on his aged face. "You were successful in slaying Count Dracula?"

Both nodded slightly, sullen and brooding eyes drifting to the floor.

"And the Valerious family?"

Gabriel and Carl looked uneasily at each other. Gabriel dropped his sullen gaze to the floor. Carl spoke again, "Um, unfortunately, both Prince Velkan and Princess Anna were killed as well," his voice waved slightly and Carl could feel tears burn in the back of his eyes.

The Cardinal nodded understandingly, "I see." He paused for a moment and crossed himself. "Well, may they find peace in Heaven. I must say Van Helsing, this was most likely one of your toughest assignments yet. And I assume," he looked Gabriel straight in the eye, "that you found the answers you were looking for."

Gabriel closed his hand over his ring with the Valerious family emblem engraved on it. His lips became a thin line and he nodded. The Cardinal gave a knowledgeable smile, "Good then. Well, it is getting late, I'm sure you're both very tired. You can get something to eat if you wish, but other than that, get some sleep and see what the morning brings us."

"Yes," said Carl with a slight bow. He picked his cloth sacks up from the ground and swung them over his shoulder. He and Gabriel started off down one of the many stone hallways that lead this way and that from the armoury. When they took different turns Carl waved a goodnight to Gabriel and continued onward.

Gabriel walked absently through the stone hallways of the abbey underground, his mind wandering elsewhere. In one hand he held Carl's crossbow, in the other, his bag was slung over his shoulder. Small torches and brass candlebras were the only source of light in the arching halls. Wooden doors led off into rooms that housed the abbey's many inhabitancies. He turned various corners as the corridors twisted and turned in a seemingly endless labyrinth. He came to one of the wooden doors and twisted stained copper the handle open. Inside was a small cot a dripping wax candle on a dresser and a bedside table. Dropping his bag, crossbow and leather coat in a heap onto the stone floor, Gabriel lay down onto the thin cot. Placing his wide-brimmed hat on the small table next to the cot, Gabriel rolled over onto his side and fell into a troubled sleep full of horrific nightmares. What had he expected?

The ballroom was decorated in the utmost aristocratic elegancy. A massive fireplace burned with red fire at one end of the room, a long mahogany table that could have seated forty people stretched along the length of the room. Massive enragements of flowers of every imaginable type sat around the room as well as the huge oil paints that hung over the mantle. It was night, and it was raining. Lightning flashed through the massive, tall, glass windows that lined one side of the room. Rain battered the room and you could hear it through the roof in mind numbing repetition. The rain pounded the tall windows, blurring and stirring the view outside into countless, swirled, shades of grey.

_Standing at the sill of one of these towering windows, two people stood together gazing out at the rain. One man and one woman. The man stood with his arm around the woman's shoulder, holding her tightly to his side. They stood in silence as the rain drummed on the windows. Suddenly, there was another violent flash of lightning and the woman screamed and buried her face into the man's chest. The man was slender and fair-skinned. He wore a black jacket with golden thread embroider woven in. His long black hair was pulled back, save one or two strands that framed his fine-featured face. But his eyes…eyes of blazing emerald green shone in what little light there was. The woman was about the same age as the man. Her curly, dark-brown hair fell near to her waist. She wore a deep claret gown that hugged her slim figure and hung at her ankles. Amber eyes stared out from her fair skin._

As the lightning vanished and the roll of thunder died, the woman pulled away from the man's grasp. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a loving embrace. There was another flash of lightning that cast a long shadow of the two along the alabaster floor.

And then suddenly he comes. Holding a dagger in his hands. The couple freeze in terror. Who is he? His face, is covered in shadow. Who is he!?

Everything becomes a blur after that. Screams. She was torn, violently from his grasp by someone. More screams. People running…shouting. And, suddenly, he was there. She screamed as the dagger cut into her neck. Blood poured from her neck. People ran and shouted. The woman shrieked and sank to her knees. Suddenly, the tall window shattered into a thousand glittering diamonds. And a massive, snarling, grey blur shot through the raining glass shards. The massive wolf skidded to a stop on the glass-riddled floor, savage red jaws snapping with ivory teeth. Roaring, the wolf siezed the Dagger Man's throat in its jaw, thrashing its victim like a limp doll. Then, turned to the shattered sill, and dove out into the night air, dragging the limp Dagger Man from his jaws.

Gabriel woke with a start. His body shivered in a cold sweat. Darkness filled the room, only a soft blue-silver glow of the moon filtered through a small, open, window near the ceiling. The dream was going further now. At first he had seen only the two standing at the window, but now. He could see the man come and…he would kill the woman, and then the man. He couldn't see who it was though. The man with the dagger.

Gabriel sat up and held his head in his trembling hands. He messaged the soft scalp underneath his thick curly hair. The dreams were becoming more intense now, more vivid. And they were the same, all the time now. No longer did they jump from battles of Rome to slaying of werewolves. Now…all he could see was the murder of these two people. This man, with the dagger, he couldn't see who he was. Why couldn't he see him? What was he suppose to remember? He didn't want to remember anything. About the past. Dracula's word still haunted him, 'I can give you back your memories!'

What memories? What was he meant to remember? What had he done that he could not remember? Questions whirred around in his head. Ever since this journey to Transylvania, more questions then answers had turned up. He turned his head out to stare out the window. The moon was draped in silver clouds that blotted out the grey light that cascaded down into the window. Who were these people in his dreams? Gabriel shook his head to try and clear his mind. There was still most likely a few more hours to sunrise, but Gabriel knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, not after the nightmares.

With an annoyed sigh Gabriel leaned his head back against the cold limestone of his small room above the rusty steel head of his bed. He closed his eyes and let the shock of the nightmare slip off his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath, Gabriel let his mind slip away and draw black and float like mist on empty blackness. Time was gone to him; it had no purpose to him for the time being. After long, gruelling journeys of vanquishing whatever the hell he needed to vanquish, to completely meditate out of time itself for a while is probably what kept him sane all these years. His breathing came in deep, slow breaths. His heart beat slower, less powerful, pushing blood slower and slower around in his body. The life in his body began to seep out of his skin, sending numbing ribbons of unfeeling crawling up his neck and head. Ribbons of numbness that veiled him in a half-conscious, hazy bliss of nothingness. Slow breaths, slow heart, ribbons of numbness, dulling his senses.

He guessed by now, somewhere in the waking recesses of his mind, that several hours had slipped away by now. He should probably wake up now, he thought to himself. Time past fast when he meditated and Carl will be wondering where he was. Gathering his mind back together he tried to open his eyes. He couldn't. Perhaps he was more tired then he thought. His mind still felt like it was separated from his body, like a wisp of mist floating on a wind. He re-gathered his mind again and tried to focus on establishing his mind in his body again. Nothing, he couldn't feel himself. This wasn't normal. He was too far down, to deep within himself. The ribbons of dim numbness, they were surrounding him, tightening their grip. They weren't releasing him this time. What was happening? Why couldn't he wake up?

The mist was darkening. A pounding numbness was exchanged for an icy chill in his body. His body? But he wasn't awake, yet he could feel himself. The silver mist swirled and thrashed around in the darkness, swaddling Gabriel in a frosty cradle.

Someone was there, someone was in his mind, he could feel whoever they were: cold. A pair of icy, porcelain hands slid over his shoulders from behind. Gabriel could feel the blood in the veins freeze under the icy grip. He couldn't tell who it was, the mist of half-consciousness had clouded his mind. But it was like he was standing there. Who was behind him?

Frosted claws dug into his flesh on his shoulders then released their grip and caressed the base of his neck. A voice, that terrible hissing voice. Smooth and soothing, yet sharp and snake-like at the same time.

"Gabriel…"

He tried to spin around to see who was behind him, but he couldn't move, he had no body to move in. God, he hated that voice. It haunted him. He had heard it so many times, he knew who it was. But…he couldn't remember. Why couldn't he! His mind screamed at him, _Why the hell did you choose now to have a memory lapse?! You know who this is! _Gabriel bristled with hate as it called from just behind his ear. He was right behind him, but he couldn't get to him. Because this wasn't real, he was lost in his own mind. Yet, he could feel ice cold claws on his shoulders. His mind pounded as tethers of burning ice climbed up to his head. Ice and fire at the same time. Or…was _he _keeping him here? What was going on?

"Gabriel…" his voice was soothing as smooth, icy hands stroked his shoulders. Gabriel tried to wake up again, he couldn't. What was happening? What was he doing?

"Gabriel…" the voice whispered into his ear as it echoed off in emptiness. "Can you feel me yet? I can feel the blood in your veins. Hot and sweet coursing in your veins. Yet, your heartbeat is so slow. I can feel it, thumping so slowly. Like you are asleep. You meditate, don't you? You can here me can't you? I'm right behind you. But this isn't you, you're just stuck in your own mind. Don't you remember?" frozen claws tightened on Gabriel's shoulder sending a spider web of icy strings through his body. "Don't you want to know, Gabriel? Don't you want to remember? I can give you your memories back. Everything you're missing, I can give it back to you. Why don't you want that? I can give everything back to you. You said that it was better to have no memories at all, is it? I can let you remember. Don't you want to remember, Gabriel?"

The mist was engulfing him. It swelled and swallowed up both of them. Gabriel could feel himself sinking further and further from his body and deeper and deeper into the half-conscious grasp of numb unfeeling-ness. He couldn't wake up, something was preventing him from waking up. Who was behind him? How could they speak to him? He needed to get out, he needed to wake up. They, whoever they were, couldn't get him if he woke up.

_Let me go, _Gabriel thought firmly.

"Go?" the voice said aloud as it whispered right behind Gabriel's ear. "Why would I let you go? After what you did to me. Twice!" The voice lost its soothing, fluid tone and regained its harsh, bone-chilling hiss.

_This isn't real. I'm asleep, I fell asleep again. You can't hurt me. Who are you?_

"You don't know me? You haven't figured it out yet? You know me…I know you do. But you can't remember, I can let you remember. I can give those memories back to you. You don't know what you did to me! I had done nothing wrong, you took everything away form me! Why shouldn't I take everything away from you?!"

_Who are you? _thought Gabriel desperately, _What did I do to you?_

"You do not know who I am!?" Ice-laced claws dug into his shoulders making Gabriel making him cringe pain. His muscles tensed as sickly cold veins crept down his body. Icy talons pressured his shoulders until they almost broke the skin. But then, a bolt of recognition hit the figure behind him as whoever they were remembered who Gabriel was, how important he was, and he released his clench on Gabriel's shoulders, leaving deep, painful indentations at the base of his neck. In shame, the figure let his cold hands slip off Gabriel's shoulders. The mist of half-conscious swirled around his head, enveloping Gabriel and whoever had invaded his mind. Gabriel could sense whoever was behind him. Their breathing in his ear was short and nervous, almost panicked. Yet he couldn't hear their heartbeat. Shouldn't it be racing? Why were _they_ worried?! Who was this? Gabriel's mind screamed at him, _wake up_!

_I can't, he's keeping me here. He's behind me, his hands are so cold…_

Then try harder, his mind yelled at him.

Gabriel focused, he needed to wake up. He couldn't keep him here. No matter what evil he had tied him down with. Wake up, wake up! The mist and darkness cleared slightly. Gabriel could feel some sensation in his fingertips, back in his body. He was waking, yet the ribbons and mist were holding him back. Gabriel struggled the sleepiness, fighting to keep awake. He didn't try to stop him.

"Run if you wish," said the voice. No. It was a different voice, "He will see you again. You can't get rid of him now, Gabriel. You are bound."

Gabriel's eyes snapped open. His hands instantly shot to his shoulders. Nothing. The claws of icy fingers had vanished as if they never were. Had he fallen asleep, had the meditation brought him to deep within himself? His head still resting on the hard stone wall, Gabriel sat up straight. Who was this person? How had they spoken to him? Suddenly as he stretched out, the triangular scars on Gabriel's back burned with an icy pain that made him recoil. Odd, they had only hurt about a week before when he and Carl were returning from Transylvanian. But soon, the burning passed and Gabriel sat up again. Only after a few moments did Gabriel realize the stream of blue new-day sunlight spilling though the tiny window. It was day-rise, what time specifically he did not know, nor did he care.

With a sigh, Gabriel pulled himself up from the thin cot. He stretched his arms wide letting out the tension of the night. This dream, was it a dream? It had been like someone had invaded his mind, someone had come into his head. What had happened? Who had the voice been? He closed his eyes, trying to remember the voice. It was familiar. He had heard it before. Something about it triggered some lost, dormant memory in his mind that was trying to break free. He knew it, he did, but he couldn't place it.

"Damn it!" he yelled aloud on slammed his hand down on the small wooden table beside his bed. He could feel cold fingers of ice on his shoulder, but when he raised his hand to them, there was nothing. Had it really happened? Had he just imagined the entire thing? Had the fatigue finally caught up with him? Flopping back on the thin cot, closed his eyes again. Perhaps more sleep would do him good. But the sunlight sparkled in its river of blue and called for him to get up.

Having not undressed last night it was convenient that he was already dressed now. He picked his coat from the floor he threw it over his shoulders and opened the door. Even though it was February the air was still dry with the winter cold and Gabriel knew he would need his coat for leaving the abbey.

He didn't see anyone one worth talking to as he left the abbey. Carl was still probably asleep. He opened the trick door to the confession booth and stepped out in the abbey's Great Hall. Every footstep echoed in the massive building until it was magnified ten times louder then it really was. Alabaster, granite, quartz covered every imaginable surface of the Hall. Gold trim wove around giant marble pillars that supported the roof. On the walls, intricate paintings of angels and children filled the space, frozen in time. At the far end of the Hall, a massive stain glass window depicting a picture of the Virgin Mary and the Christ set in front of a crucifix, ablaze in sun-fire. Even the Notre Dame cathedral in France-- of which Mr. Hyde had so graciously shattered the centuries old Rose Window--couldn't compare to the size and beauty of this abbey.

But Gabriel was in no mood to marvel at the sight. He stormed out of the abbey, coat drawn over his shoulders, the brim of his hat brought deeply over his eyes to conceal his identity. He was still one of the most wanted men in Europe. No amount of praying or faith would change that. Pushing the great mahogany doors of the abbey open, Gabriel was meet with a crisp winter-spring air that left his breath in front of him. The sun streamed across the rooftops and cast peachy orange colours down on the city. A little ways ahead of him, along the walkway, the massive rough iron gates that kept all else out of the abbey stood like the bars of a prison against the bright new-day light. The guards gave Gabriel a hard look as the iron gates creaked open. _Like a fortress, _thought Gabriel, it was a metaphor he used often for the church.

Undeterred by the hard glances Gabriel continued out of the church. The Piazza San Pietro, a massive encircling stone plaza in front of the St. Peter's Basilica, stood solemn in the crisp air. His boots clacked on the alabaster stone of the plaza and Gabriel heard the bells chime as he passed to massive fountains that lined the way to the abbey. Gabriel didn't seem to notice the beauty of scene as he quickly left the Piazza San Pietro into the greater city of Rome.

Wandering to markets of the ancient city, Gabriel came upon a small stone patio that seemed like a small city square. The small stone court scurried about with people going about their everyday lives of trading and market.

In the centre of the small square, people gossiped and children played and pigeons waddled around looking for crumbs. Off on the edges of the plaza, merchants and market people stood by wooden stalls draped in cloth, were selling various good. Gabriel browsed through the markets, enjoying the richness of it all. Above all, Gabriel enjoyed looking at artefacts brought from other countries most. Diamond figurines from India, jewellery from Thailand, jade carvings from China, Spanish pirate gold from the Caribbean. And even a few traders from a young country called America sold small pieces of machinery and technology that Gabriel had never seen before. He had been told that America was a young country, only celebrating its centennial anniversary a few years ago, but that is had prospered in its short life so far and had become a wealthy country of the West. But for now, Gabriel was more drawn to the diamonds from India, then the strange iron machines from America, even though they were nothing short off something Carl would cook up in the armoury.

Trees folded their branches against the cold as a chilly gale blew though the plaza, causing the school of pigeons to take flight in unison. Winter was dieing hard even though February was coming to an end and the warmth of spring could be felt. Men grabbed for their hats as the gale died and the pigeons landed and began to peck at the stone ground once more.

Gabriel tossed the little jade carving in up and snatched it out of the air. The little thing had not cost much and Gabriel had nothing better to do. It was a Chinese carving of a tiger, an animal Gabriel had never seen. Carl had told him about them once. From what he had read, they were big orange cats with black stripes that lived in Siberia, capable of taking down a deer in one bite. But the carving looked more like a long tailed demon then a big cat. Oh well, Gabriel thought as he pushed open the abbey doors and came into the Hall.

Like so many past times he pushed open the screen in the confession booth and came down the stone staircase. Perhaps Carl was awake by now. He came into the Order's main chamber. Not many people were about yet, it was still well before nine o'clock. But over in the arsenal, Carl was sitting at a desk, pouring though countless books and texts in what little candlelight there was. Gabriel rolled his eyes. The friar's mind was never on less then three different topics at once. While Gabriel himself had trouble keeping his mind on a single topic at a time. Carl squinted in the dim candlelight. How the friar didn't go blind in the dim light was beyond Gabriel. With what looked like it could be a smile Gabriel came up behind Carl and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Carl," said Gabriel. Carl jumped three feet in the air straight from his chair which went skidding back a few ways. He sent paper and parchment flying around himself. Gabriel jumped back as well, suspired to say the least.

"Oh, Van Helsing its only you," gasped Carl with a sigh of relief, slumping relieved back into his chair.

Gabriel raised a suspicious eyebrow, "I'd hate to see what you would be like if I had been something else. Why so jumpy?"

"Well, when one is living a quiet life as a friar and scribe, having never been outside the abbey and never having to worry about anything, then is suddenly whisked away to the cold, frost-bitten misery that is Transylvania and spent the greater part of that journey in absolute terror of vampires, werewolves and eight feet high re-animated men, one becomes a little more tense!" said Carl with a certain amount of annoyance and volume.

Gabriel gave Carl a funny look, "I see," he said. Fixing the brim on his hat Gabriel leaned over the desk and studied the books and papers that swallowed the Carl's desk, "What wonder of the world are you studying this time?"

"Just reading about the Crusades." muttered Carl tonelessly. His dramatic spell had past, as he gathered scattered papers back together once more. "What do you have there?" He said, noticing Gabriel's gloved fist enclosing something.

Gabriel placed to jade tiger on the desk, "Just something I picked up at the market."

"Ah," said the friar picking up the little figurine, "a jade tiger from China yes?"

Gabriel gave an uncaring shrug, "That's what I was told."

"What did you get it for?"

His friend's voice was toneless and half-hearted, "No reason in particular."

Carl looked up at his friend, he noticed an absence in Gabriel's eyes. A dullness, something very unlike his friend, "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"About what?"

"You seem a bit distant since we've returned."

"I'm just tired."

Carl wasn't convinced, "Are you sure?" he said placing the little jade carving back on the a free spot on the desk.

"Yes," said Gabriel snatching the figurine back.

"Well ever since Transylvania you've been very quiet and dulled. It's unlike you. I'm worried for you."

"Worried for what? This has nothing to do with Transylvania."

"Then about Dracula?"

"No!"

"Anna?"

"No!" Gabriel slammed in fist down on the desk, blowing some papers form away in the process. "If you want to help then you can stay hidden from the world down here in darkness and just shut up about Transylvania, and vampires, and Anna!" Gabriel tuned on the heel of his boot, causing his coat and long scarves to billow out in a circle, and stormed off down the stone hall his shoulders hunched and chin titled down to hide tears small forming in his eyes. Carl, taken aback by the viciousness of the comment, sat stunned and silenced almost as if in shame.

After Gabriel's footsteps could no longer be heard, Carl sighed. He truly was worried for his friend. He hadn't been the same since Transylvania. But then again, he himself probably wasn't the same. After such an uprooting journey, how do you pick up the pieces of you life and carry on a pretend nothing happened? But Gabriel must have been use to that by now. Whatever it was, Gabriel had changed, somehow. In a way that was different then Carl could explain with all his boundless knowledge. Someway that he couldn't quite grasp, not just yet.

As Carl gathered the parchments that Gabriel had tossed in his fit, he sighed inwardly with a worried sadness again as he saw the little jade tiger on the desk, smashed into dusty pieces.

* * *

Ragweed: Eek, did that 'meditation part' with Gabriel sound as slash-like as I think it did? Before anyone bites my head off, I want to say that have no problem with slash or any kind of homosexuality. _I _personally just can't write it at _all _without totally degrading someone. (Of all the romance I can't write, slash is the one I can't write the best…does that make sense?) So, this isn't going to be a slash fic, just thought I'd say that outright. Good.  
Well, let me know what you think. I can't make it better if you don't tell me what's wrong. Don't just write 'it's great. Continue.' Like anyone would say that anyway. Don't you feel sorry for me?

Readers: No…

Ragweed: I didn't think so. Oh, yes and one last thing, I'm not American, so I think I got America's age right. (I checked in a book somewhere) But if I'm wrong, tell me and I'll change that right away.


	4. Sympathy, or Something Like It

Ragweed: Haha, I actually have a plot now! Aren't you happy for me!? You should all be happy!  
Van Helsing: Ragweed, haven't you figured out by now in your tiny walnut of a mind that nobody gives a damn how sorry or happy or sad they're supposed to feel for you. They just want to read the freakin' story!  
Ragweed: Shut up Gabriel. Thank you to Verona Dracula for the review (By the way I love your Van Helsing story) I'm a kissing up or what? I'm glad I got America's age right. We don't learn that here in Canada, I can however recite the Canadian anthem in French (and you care about that) Anyway, this is basically more story, so read…um, yeah…go ahead and read…why are you still here…read!

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 3: Sympathy, or Something Like It

"'The darkness…the darkness,' mused Jack as his normally curious and childish voice became solid and undeniable. Tracing his hand over the painting longingly, the strange man twisted his neck to stare at the oil pigments on the canvas from another angle. 'In the darkest hours of the night, when I am alone and haunted souls come to torture to me, They come to speak to me. They, from that Fateful Day.'"--_Memories Lost, _Author Unknown

.:I:.

Whatever scrap of a heart lay dormant in Dracula's chest filled with a pain of unwanted feeling. He was waking up. The vampire would have given anything to remain asleep, dead to the world forevermore, never to wake into the hollow husk that was his body. As sensation returned to his body, he remembered where he was sleeping. The stone corridors of Castle Frankenstein were deathly silent. The silence itself seemed to hang from the intricate stone carvings of the rooms and massive corridors of the castle. _Damn it_, he hated the silence! The Count rolled his head to one side and the linens and duvet under his neck shifted. The silver erring on his left ear was pressed uncomfortable into the taut muscles in the side of his neck. His body was cold, but then again, it was always icy and cold wasn't it?

The massive room was decorated with excruciating detail down to the very last candlestick holder. A large oriental rug sprawled over the cold slate floor, only meeting the corner of the wall and floor near the massive fireplace that lay unlit for years. The mantle was solid oak, polished so that it shinned with rubbing oil. At each side of the mantel, two creatures stood carved into the oak, their tails curled at the floor, their bodies standing human-like until their heads reached the mantel-top. One was a wolf-like creature with muscular shoulders and tall, pointed ears; the other, had massive wings that flared from its back. His head was horribly disfigured; icy eyes stared across the mantle and seemed to gaze fixedly at the wolf-creature on the other side. The fireplace was certainly the most detailed thing in the entire room, despite the room's elegancy. Heavy, claret, velvet drapes hung lifelessly from the tall fogged windows, causing the sunlight to filter though a bleak white colour. Even though milky films of clouds covered the sun's white-foggy rays, Dracula didn't want to see any light right now; for with the light he would see himself and that he loathed right now.

In one corner of the room, the huge canopy bed lay made with large, silk-tasselled pillows and large colourfully-embroider duvet draped over the edges hitting the rug on the floor. Dracula lay curled at the edge of the massive bed, eyes closed, his pain-stricken face inches from the slate stone wall, his knees tucked near his chest. As the realization that he was awaking took hold of the Count he began to tremble uncontrollably. He knew that no matter how much he fought it, the fear would crawl into his mind and chill his body until he trembled with fear. Compared to the unworldly, terrific monster he had once been, he looked rather pitiful cowering in the darkness.

But then, Dracula's body became as tense as his muscles would allow. Something, some ancient instinct stirred within him. Obsidian black claws clung to the slate wall in anticipation, as if any moment he expected the Prince of Darkness Himself to jump out and impale his heart with a silver stake. Not that it would kill him, just fill him with more pain and unwanted feeling. Eyes of blazing, shimming emerald green glowed in the darkness. From the massive windows that lined one side of the room, small slivers of bleak sunlight cascaded into the room, casting a dim light allowing some kind of sight possible.

Senses alert, Dracula snapped upright, almost too fast for the human eye to follow. His eyes scanning the room feverishly. Summoning his strength, Dracula floated up on empty winds, the Count's black cloak billowing around him, until the tips of his boot clacked silently on the stone floor. His eyes could see the small varicose bodies of mice scurrying blinding around in the dark, their tiny heart beating madly, surging blood throughout their tiny bodies. Dracula concentrated his thoughts and his mind surged for a moment and the mice became inflamed with green St. Elmo's Fire. Squeaks and squeals could be heard as the little green-flamed mice scurried for safety. Now the room was thick with silence and the Count tried to block it out by concentrating on something else. Anything was better then the silence, anything. Dracula stood there for a moment, in the dim darkness, as he called upon memories of the previous night.

He had seen him; spoken to him; contacted him that night. Gabriel hadn't been asleep though. Instead, he had been in a half-conscious, sedative state as if he had been meditating. But Dracula was still able to reach him in his own sleep. Dracula suddenly shuddered and he grabbed his sides; sleeping was not one of his more pleasant experiences. Sleeping in an ice-encased casket by daylight had been what he had hated most. He would not go back to Castle Drakulya, too many memories lay embedded with in the halls of that icy fortress. Yet sleeping uncontained in the open, like the living humans did, gave him a sense of unease and almost paranoia. Dracula shivered once more as his thoughts returned to Gabriel. Stubborn man. He had offered him his memories, everything he needed to understand, and still he refused! Dracula backed into one of the slate walls. The cool stone sent a cold shiver spider-webbing throughout his body compared to the hot sweat that caused him to shudder now.

Dracula's mind raced with questions. Why wouldn't Gabriel take his memories? Why didn't he want to know?

Because he's afraid, a voice whispered in Dracula's head.

"What do you mean 'he's afraid?'" he said aloud, his mouth still readjusting to speech.

He's afraid of what he'll remember, answered the voice coolly yet spitefully at the same time. Almost toying with Dracula's emotions, what little of them there were. _Afraid to find out about the people he loved. He's afraid of those he will remember, what happened to them. Afraid to remember what he did to you._

Dracula cringed with memories he had long-stopped grieving over and he pushed off the stone wall in anger. As if by his will a wind blew through and the giant twin doors to the Master Bedroom flew open like child's play slamming violently into the walls of the hallway. The grey light from the milky-clouded sky blinded him temporarily, yet he remained unfazed and quickly paced down the hallway, his black cloak fluttering out around him. But the voice still remained with Dracula as he walked the echoing, bare rooms of the deserted castle. Almost everything was gone save the piles of dead leaves that lay piled in the corners of the room and lined the floors. All rooms except the Master Bedroom and the library had sub-come to robbery by now.

The voice in Dracula's head remained cool and formal as it continued, _Gabriel doesn't want his memories back because he doesn't want to feel the pain he caused you. You were there when you offered his memories to him, without any trouble to him, you felt it, I know you did. You could feel it within him, you sensed it in his heart. He knows he did something to you. He knows he did something more then murder you. More then take your ring. Think of the pain he caused you. The pain he caused Samantha. He doesn't want that guilt._

Dracula bristled with more hate as he stomped aimlessly though the winding corridors, "Well he deserves it!" he yelled aloud, his voice twisted into a terrible hiss.

The voice replied conspicuously calm, _Yes, yes he does deserve it. But he is too weak, too pitiful. The living are that way. Easily vulnerable to injury and illness. You know that. You were there in his dream. He couldn't stand you there. Yet he was able to kill you in reality--_this only made Dracula's rage grow--_That is his weakness. His dreams._

Anger welled up in Dracula's stomach, mixed with some long-lost hint of an emotion he did not recognize. His fury flared and the entire corridor became alive with the green, supernatural glow of St. Elmo's Fire sweeping along the stone hallways. The intense green flame died as it swept across in a straight line, traveling further and further in every direction. But Dracula couldn't suppress the persisting truth that gnawed in the back of his mind.

"Not everything is Gabriel's fault, though," Dracula whispered and his voice wavered as he said it, as if ashamed to say the words, which he was.

Whatever power the voice in his head had surged with a throbbing pain, and Dracula clawed at the sides of his head, trying to make the pounding in his mind stop. He had expected the voice, whoever it was, would not be happy with that remark.

Why do you defend him?! He murdered you Vladislaus. Murdered you! And Samantha! I do not understand how you can have sympathy for this man, this unholy man who took everything away from you!

Sympathy. Dracula tossed the idea around in his head, testing the sharpness of its edges. The feeling was alien to him, as were most feelings, but this one he was unsure of. Perhaps it was sympathy, or something close to it. Dracula bit his lip, uncomfortable with the thoughts in his head. Too many memories lay implanted these thoughts. And he knew why he felt this. The thought was in Dracula's mind, but he refused to speak it. It would do nothing to help him at this point. But somehow the voice knew what the Count was thinking….

Because he was your friend? the voice taunted with cruel mockery. _Hmm? Oh, great Count Vladislaus Drakulya._

Dracula felt what reminates of a heart he might have had sink to his stomach. The words stung him worse than any silver-stake or crucifix ever could. He felt more tears begin to burn in the back of his eyes and he boiled with rage once more. He screamed inwardly at himself for being so weak. What had happened to him?

In a blinded fury, Dracula slashed out with his claws at the stone wall, nearly hitting one of the small candelabras that burned with dripping wax candles and orange fire. In another brief fit, there was a flash and the corridor again became lit with unearthly and unnerving green glow of the St. Elmo's Fire that emanated from the vampires body and Dracula slammed back against the torch-lit corridor. He slid to the floor, the voice still taunting him.

Because four-hundred years ago, this man was you're friend?! Because four-hundred years ago, he was someone you trusted, someone you befriended? Hmm? And then he betrayed you. He killed you in cold blood and let you rot in the flames of Hell. Is that why, Dracula?!

"Shut up!" screamed Dracula aloud.

You can't see it, can you Dracula? You can't see what is happening around you.

Dracula snarled in an almost animal-like rage and his green eyes blazed in anguish.

He'll find out your alive again he'll find you and be sent back to look for you by that 'Holy Order' of his and he'll come looking for you to kill you once more, the voice corrected its mistake. _But then again, you're not truly alive are you._

Dracula thrashed out in antagonism, twisting his body around, slashing at the stone wall. Sparks flew from his obsidian claws as the traced down along the slate walls. The Count's forehead rested on the cold walls of the corridor and he breathed heavily in gasping, panting breaths. His body shivered hysterically as whatever power the voice had surged throughout his veins as if enjoying putting Dracula through the physical and mental pain.

Don't you see Dracula, he_ commands you this time, you can't escape _his_ power._

"But how can I? What does _he_ want me to do?" gasped the vampire, the voice's power pounding on the sides of his skull.

Nothing. The voice was gone. Dracula could tell. It was not simply being quiet, the presence of the voice was gone. Whatever spirit or soul the voice was had deserted him and he was alone once more. Silence. Damn it, the silence! It seeped within his porcelain skin and stretched around him like a vice. Part of him wished he hadn't scared the voice away, at least with it he was not alone. But Dracula was accustom to solitude by now, and the darkness helped to numb the pangs of seclusion. The darkness was the only place where the pain was tolerable. At this thought, Dracula sent a cold chill-wave throughout the corridor and all the candles flickered out. Darkness and Silence soon occupied the entire castle. And as silence does when lingers unbroken for a period of time, it grew thick and heavy in the air.

Dracula sat in the darkness unsure of everything. What was he suppose to do now? Pine away in the darkness until nothing but dust and a broken spirit remained? He felt anger boil within him once more and he dug his claws into the stone floor, damn it! He didn't understand it, what was he suppose to do?! The boiling reached a breaking point and Dracula slashed out again, this time to the thin air. The rage within him subsided and the vampire leaned back against the wall. He sat there for a moment, the Silence and Darkness melding together. Dracula didn't try to fight it as a thin, wistful veil of sleep swathed him in a clouded, unreal numbness. All energy was sapped from his body, he felt he hadn't slept in days. Which was strange, considering he had just awoken. But the long tethers of sleep began to enfold him and drag him down. A smile crossed the Count's clouded and glazed eyes as sudden longing feeling of sleep came over him. He would try again. Perhaps Gabriel would give-in this time. He only hoped that Gabriel had wandered off to sleep himself.

.:I:.

A mix of fury and grief bubbled in Gabriel's blood as he stormed down the candle-lit stone hallways. How dare he!? How dare that pathetic excuse for monk?! _Friar, not even a monk, _his mind corrected. Gabriel balled his hands into fists as the rage boiled deep within his body. Why couldn't he learn to keep with mouth shut? Why couldn't he learn to shut up? The wretched, pitiful, scrawny, little….

He stopped himself.

It wasn't Carl's fault. No matter how much he wanted to put the blame on someone else, it was his own fault. Gabriel felt a pang of anger and grief at himself as he thought of what he had said to Carl. As the anger coursing his veins seethed and raged to a snapping point, Gabriel slammed one of his fists into the limestone wall, letting some of the endless grief that welled within him pour out and course into the wall away from himself. Almost instantly he spun around and stomped back down the corridor.

Even as he swung the door to his room open, Gabriel could feel an unreal wave of exhaustion come over him. He staggered for a moment and he brought his hand to his forehead. Gabriel's mind swam with thoughts and emotions that made him even more enraged. A dusty, whitewashed new-day sunlight filtered in the small window filling the room with a shadowy dim light. Gabriel let himself slide down the wall into the shadows on the cold stone floor, exhausted by some unexplainable cause. Sirens of sleep called to him from some unknown place deep in his mind. Resting his head back on the limestone, he tried to clear his mind, tried to let himself slip away into blissful and numbing half-consciousness. He needed to relax, he needed time to set everything straight.

Struggling to try and let himself go, Gabriel refused to let his emotions get to him. He couldn't let this get to him. After everything he had done in the past, after all the evil he had vanquished, all the people he had…_murdered_, this one assignment couldn't change his emotionless frame of mind. That what it was, this was his _assignment. _There was nothing different about this time. Life would go on and he would learn to forget. But as he drifted into meditation, a little voice somewhere within his mind snickered at him, _Who are you kidding?_

For the most part, there was blackness, like all of the other times he meditated. Complete and absolute darkness and blankness. Silence and Darkness was all Gabriel needed to try and keep himself calm. But this time, the darkness was almost...frightening. Gabriel was disgusted himself at the thought; he had seen and felt far more frightening things in his days.

But as Gabriel drifted further and further from his body, he began to feel it: the same person was back. The person, or thing, that had invaded his mind last night. He could sense its presence lurking in the blissful, numb darkness. Whatever or whoever had contacted him in his dream earlier had returned again. As the black mist began to sweep though the emptiness, Gabriel thought he should wake up before whoever it was got to him, but after a moment, he thought maybe he might and try to converse with whoever it was. Perhaps it would prove it was just a figure of his 'over-active and paranoid mind' as Carl would have said. But if it wasn't, Gabriel's natural curiosity wanted to know what had invaded his mind.

Going against all his instincts, Gabriel remained in the dark numbness of meditation. Soon, the feeling of the cold limestone underneath him and on his back dissolve away until he felt as if he were suspended in empty blackness. All consciousness of his surroundings was lost as he slipped into abyss all ties to waking up, severed. He tried to remain more alert then last time, but it was difficult as the spirit of whoever was there drew closer in the darkness.

He was there, whoever _he _was. First came to cold, then the icy burning throughout his body, then the cold hands that creep over his shoulders from behind.

"Gabriel…"

He had returned, Gabriel was sure of it now.

"Gabriel, it is good to see you've returned." Stinging beats of icy pain pulsed though his body from sharp claws that dug into his shoulders. Gabriel tried to remain as calm as he could, he didn't want to suddenly snap awake and loose contact with whoever this person was. _What to do you want? _he thought.

Cold hands slipped from his shoulders. "I just want to help you." The voice was cruel and mocking, and it made Gabriel's anger rise slightly.

Help me with what? Who are you? Gabriel thought back with a certain amount of anger, convinced that the voice could hear with thoughts.

"Help you with everything you're missing," the voice answered slyly. "Everything you want to know," Gabriel could feel fingertips tracing through his black cloak to where the three interlocking triangular scars were along his back. The old wounds suddenly began to burn in pain at the touch, "Everything you can't understand." the voice said with almost a hint of pity and sympathy.

Who are you? Gabriel asked again, unhappy with the fact that the voice thought he needed its pity.

There was silence for a moment. Gabriel wanted to turn and see this 'person' with his own eyes. This would prove that nothing was truly there. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the darkness around him, or the lack of feeling in the tips of his fingers, or the icy burning along his back. But he couldn't bring himself to turn around. _Who are you? _he asked again.

More silence. Gabriel began to wonder if whatever-it-was had left. But he could still feel the iciness creeping along his spine.

Who are you!? Gabriel screamed in his mind, quickly growing irritated at the voice.

The icy burning in Gabriel's back suddenly dissolved away and in front of him, the dark mist began to stir. Then, almost just as suddenly, the clouded and misty blackness in front off him materialized into a figure of a human. Gabriel squinted his own eyes to who it was. The man's features were striking, pronounced cheekbones and an angular face was drawn taut with porcelain pale skin and cold flesh. He was dressed entirely in stark black, with a long black cape draping his body. His silky, black hair was pulled back off his face, enhancing his shining green eyes. Eyes--eyes that were boring into Gabriel, causing him to almost shudder…almost. They were electric, intense with fire, almost like in frenzy, like those of someone who was…alive. No, they were dead, dead and dull like a November pond. No life stirred within them. Instead, they shimmered slightly with a mixture of sorrow and desire, a desire to _be _alive.

A bolt of realization and recognition shot though Gabriel's body like lightning. He felt his heart freeze. Standing there before him, in misty blackness, was Dracula.

Gabriel couldn't move, all thought was temporaily impossible. It was a dream. _It was a dream! _This wasn't true, it _couldn't _be true! _Wake up, wake up! _his mind finally screamed at him. But there it was again, he couldn't wake up. He was keeping him here, keeping him in half-consciousness sedative. Gabriel struggled with the grip the vampire had on him, trying to awake from the darkness. It was pointless, Dracula's grip was too strong. He still couldn't move, he still couldn't fight back. His mind was frozen with shock. What was going on?

Suddenly, his instincts roared back to life and Gabriel lashed out at the figure of Dracula. With one swipe from his hand Gabriel found a mark in the mist. His body flung out in midair, finding nothing but darkness. As Gabriel righted himself, the figure of Dracula materialized beside him. Gabriel felt pure wrath rise within him. This _must _have been a dream, or else all his raging anger would have jolted him out of meditation by now. Gabriel struck out at Dracula in fury and the vampire simple dissolved away and reappeared next to him.

It isn't real, it isn't real! his mind screamed.

Yes it was.

Gabriel stared at the figure of the Count, who merely stared back at him. Those blazing green eyes staring with emotionless frost.

What the hell are you?! Gabriel thought with bitterness and blazing anger.

The faintest trace of a smile crept across Dracula's features, "I am who you think I am, Gabriel." His voice was smooth and almost warm.

Gabriel didn't move.

"You aren't real," said Gabriel aloud. "I killed you, I did it, I remember! You're not real!" his voice was almost hysterical.

Dracula said nothing. Instead, he took a step toward Gabriel who reflexively took a step back. Unaffected, Dracula approached Gabriel again. This time Gabriel did not retreat, he watched Dracula intently, still at a loss of what to make of everything. His mind pounded with confusion, but he remained a calm as he could. The vampire's eyes locked onto Gabriel's, as if searching the man's soul for something that he had lost long ago. Dracula took another step toward Gabriel, his blazing green eyes still searching deep within Gabriel's spirit. They were surging with evil and power, they were almost hypnotic. Staring at him. They were almost familiar, and a flicker of remembrance flashed across Gabriel's mind.

Gabriel snapped out of the trance as Dracula came right in front of him. Close enough to strike the Count, most likely a fatal blow if he hit hard enough. But Gabriel didn't move. Didn't breathe. Still keeping his gaze on Gabriel, Dracula reached out his hand and touched the Hunter on the arm with his talons. Icy pain spread throughout Gabriel's entire body and he was jolted back. The corners of Dracula's mouth pulled into a smile, revealing long blood-stained fangs.

"I am real, Gabriel," he hissed softly. "I am."

Gabriel remained silent, his mind swirling with questions and confusion.

"Your memories, they're becoming stronger, more intense are they not? You're memories are coming back. Nothing like the horrors you have cuased and witnessed can stay suppressed for seven years. But they will never come back entirely," Dracula's eyes blazed again and he stepped closer to Gabriel so that he was barely inches from him, "Not unless you want me to give them back to you."

It isn't real, his mind rebelled. But it _felt_ like the truth.

"You want to know; why won't you let me give them to you?"

Why did Dracula want to give him his memories so badly? What did he need to remember? Gabriel tried to absorb all that was happening, but Dracula merely kept his gaze locked in Gabriel's own eyes, as if waiting for Gabriel to be ready to accept his memories. After a moment, Dracula clenched his clawed hands into fists and his shimmering green eyes surged, causing Gabriel to flinch. The Hunter was almost entranced by the vampire's eyes. He found himself defenceless against the vampire's power. Something he hated beyond all else, being defenceless. Dracula raised his claws to Gabriel's head, letting them rest on his forehead. Gabriel flinched again and struck out at the Count. But the Count was quick and dodged Gabriel's swipe. Keeping his blazing gaze fixed on Gabriel's, Dracula raised his claws to Gabriel's forehead, touching his brow softly.

"It will only be painful for a moment," said Dracula.

Gabriel could feel the rage burning within himself. He wanted to crush the vampire's neck and choke whatever remaining life dwindled in the husk of the Count. But then, some part of him wanted more than anything to find out everything he had missing, everything he had wanted to know, everything that kept him going. Gabriel closed his eyes, letting the burning icy touch of Dracula's claws seep into his mind. Perhaps it wouldn't be terrible to have his memories back, and besides, he suddenly had no strength to fight.

The vampire filled with frenzy. _Finally! _After four-hundred years of pain and torture and loss, Gabriel would finally see all the pain he had caused. He would relive it all, and Dracula would enjoy every moment of it before he killed him finally. Dracula almost trembled with…happiness? Dracula was not sure. It had been so long since he had felt anything that resembled happiness, he was unsure if this enticing feeling was it. But at the moment, Dracula did not care, he relished in the thought of how Gabriel would suffer with guilt before he put him out of his misery.

But suddenly, something shook Gabriel, hard. The icy touch of Dracula's claws dropped from his forehead. Gabriel felt his body being shaken again. Dracula let out a ear-splitting screeched as the mist engulfed him, blurring his image. Something was pulling Gabriel up, up from the numbness and darkness. The his nerves jolted and suddenly the stone underneath and behind him became recognizable. Another jolt and Gabriel sprang to his feet. The blurry shadows of dim light came into focus. Something shook him again and he spun around to face it.

"Van Helsing," cried a muffled voice, "Van Helsing, wake up!"

Suddenly Gabriel had no strength and he dropped to the small cot in the corner of the dim room. Carl rushed over and knelt next to his friend, his face clearly worried.

"Van Helsing," said the friar, his voice quivering with fright, despite the fact is raced with a thousand different questions. "What happened? What's wrong? I was worried about you and I came here, and you were sitting against the wall, and you wouldn't wake up!" He stopped himself before he rambled on.

Gabriel found himself trembling, what had just happened? It wasn't a dream. It was too real to be a dream. But he had killed Dracula, twice! His mind raced with unanswerable questions. Fear played out on his face, something Carl had never seen on his friend. Words suddenly came to Gabriel's mouth.

"He's come back."

* * *

Ragweed: Yeah, I known, I lied again. Dracula was still a bit OOC in this chapter. I know I'm probably ticking a bunch of people off who are thinking, 'What the hell is she doing to Dracula?' . Don't worry, the evil, bloodsucking Dracula we know and love is still here, I promise! I know that doesn't mean much but I promise, promise, promise.   
Carl: Nobody believes you…  
Ragweed: (smacks self in forehead) Carl, you _really _should learn to keep your mouth shut. Especially around those _who can hurt you! _Yeah. Review or I will send the Dwergi on you!! (I'll do it too)


	5. Grains of an Hourglass

* * *

Ragweed: Wheeee! Okay, I'm calm. But for some explainable reason, ecstacticly happy today. Don't you love it when you have days like that? Anyway, I finally realized what I forgot, the disclaimer! I don't know what the point to disclaimers are (given that the website is called "Fan"fiction.) But anyway, Carl, disclaim us. 

Carl: (sigh)Ragweed does not own _Van Helsing, _Universal Pictures does,and she isn't being paid or making any money off of this fic.

Dracula: Actually, she's not making any money period. You're flat broke Ragweed.

Ragweed: Thank you for that Dracula…. Well, this is just more story. As always, I'd love to here what you think, so please review. I've got to go torture Carl and Gabriel. Excuse me.

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 4: Grains of an Hourglass

'Blurring and stirring, the truth and the lies,  
So I don't know what's real and what's not,  
Always confusing the thoughts in my head,  
So I can't trust myself anymore," -- _'Going Under' _by Evanescence

.:I:.

At first, Carl was as hysterical as Gabriel was when he first told him what happened. After, he entered a state of absolute denial, then, soon-after, he rambled endlessly on topics that seemed to have nothing to do with what Gabriel had said. Gabriel sat on the thin cot, watching Carl move about franticly, pacing the room, rambling on end. Finally, after what seemed endless dragging on and hysteria, Carl slumped down onto the thin cot in the small room and said nothing.

They sat for a moment, staring off into space, saying nothing to one another. After what appeared to be several minutes of silence, Carl turned to Gabriel.

Gabriel didn't have to look at his friend to read the worry and complete disbelief on his face, "How can it be possible?" said Carl, his voice wavering.

Gabriel shook his head hopelessly, "I don't know." Was all he could muster.

More silence. Gabriel couldn't take it all. It couldn't be real, he refused to believe it. Dracula was dead, he'd killed him. But then…he placed a hand on the scars on his back, they still stung with the icy burning pain.

Carl saw Gabriel's movement. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," muttered Gabriel quickly, shoving Carl away.

The timid friar quickly backed away from his friend. Van Helsing was never one you should persist or nag; he was too headstrong to give-in. Unsure of what to do, Carl stood up once more and paced the small room agitatedly as before. Rarely was Carl in a situation where he didn't know what to make of it, and frankly, he didn't care for it one bit.

Gabriel held his head in his hands; he did know what to make of everything. But he could still feel Dracula's icy touch on his arm. His cold numbing claws on his forehead. His burning eyes that shimmered with every imaginable shade of green. Gabriel shuddered as he remembered what had happened. Dracula was so close to giving him his memories. Why? Why did he want Gabriel to remember so much? He seemed to almost want to…_help _Gabriel. But Gabriel didn't want to remember. Or did he? Gabriel tossed the thought around in his head quickly, checking it from every angle. Everything he had ever wanted to know. His family, his friends, everything he had searched for his entire life. It almost made his wish Dracula had given him his memories back.

Gabriel stood up, so suddenly he nearly scared Carl out of his skin. He grabbed his leather coat from the ground and swung it on to his shoulders. Going over to the cherry-wooden dresser, Gabriel pulled out his Tojo Blades, his two silver long-barrelled pistols, which he holstered on each hip, his shotgun which he slung across his back with a thin leather strap, and his grappling gun. After that, he slammed the drawers of the dresser shut and picked up the crossbow from the ground and slung it over his shoulder. As Carl stood dumbfounded by his friend's actions, Gabriel pushed the door of the room open and came into the limestone hallways.

When Gabriel came to the armoury, there was no one there. Was it night already? Had he meditated that long? The armoury was never completely deserted like this. But Gabriel didn't care right now. He darted over to where Carl's desk lay covered with a small portion of the Vatican's enormous library. The friar raced into the deserted armoury just in time to see Gabriel shove the piles of books and scrolls off his desk and stuff two cloth bags full of provisions. Without word, Gabriel stormed off up the stone stairway, leading up outside of the armoury.

Carl quickly followed him. "Van Helsing! Van Helsing, what are you doing? Where are you going? It's the middle of the night! Where are you going to go?!"

The friar followed Gabriel up out of the church past the Piazza San Pietro of into the city of Rome. The streets of the city were quiet with night, only the odd cat yowled at the passing stray dog. The cobble-stone roads clacked as Gabriel paced quickly through the streets. Gabriel had not gone far when he turned down a dirt road that lead into the stables.

The wooden barn doors had no lock and it was easy to slide open. No one was there; all the holsters had gone to sleep for the night. Darkness had already settled in the crevasses and creaks of the rafters and stalls for the night, making the sudden flood of moonlight spilling from the open door flush out shadows from every place the light dare reached. Hay and straw was scattered around the dirt floors. There were five rows of two stalls, each back-to-back of the other. Bridles and saddles were hooked on the frame of every stall, freshly oiled, making for quick and easy tacking-up. Behind the large barn, paddocks that sprawled for miles bordered with Vatican, for it was the abbey's stable.

The horses stood in the quiet shadows of their stalls. Horses from every culture were housed in this stable. There were at least eighty of Europe's finest breeds of horses in this one massive stable alone; Spanish war-stallions, English Clydesdales, Arab racing colts, horses from all corners of the East; including the stable's newest additions, two coal-black Transylvanian stallions.

Gabriel stood there for a moment, silhouetted by the moonlight. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the musty and somehow intoxicating smells of the stables deep into lungs and clear his mind…somewhat. He stopped in the sliding-door threshold to the stables, trapped in thought. Perhaps this wasn't the best thing to do, perhaps it wasn't wise to storm off like this while he was so angry and his fury was so tipped. But something, perhaps some suppressed memory trying to break free or perhaps it was some extra sense that he had inherited from years of battle and training, but something drove him to do this. He needed do this. He must do this. No matter how many painful memories it uncovered.

Gabriel opened the stall to a particularly tall and strong black horse with a long silver mane and a short cropped tail. One of the Transylvanian stallions of course, best for long distance. The sound of horse-hooves thudded on the dirt floor as Gabriel leads the horse calmly from its stall, stroking its neck soothingly, talking softly to calm it. Removing the halter from its head, Gabriel slipped on the leather bridle, fitting the metal bit into its mouth and tying the slender reins to one of the hooks on the frame of the stall. Hauling the leather saddle off the saddle rack, Gabriel swung it over the horse's back. He centred the well-oiled saddle on the stallion's back and tightened the girth-strap on the horse's belly. The horse's stamina would come into play now more than ever, if were going to make it to Transylvania in time.

_In time for what? _the long-lost Voice of Reason challenged in his head, _What exactly do you plan to find. Dracula? He's not there, you know that. You're just running Gabriel. Running away._

Gabriel shut the voice out of his mind as he untied the slender leather reins and began to lead the horse out from the stable, the wide brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes.

Carl burst into the stable, clinging to the frame of the barn door, exhausted and clearly out of breath. The little friar clearly hadn't run anywhere in a great deal of time. By the time he had gotten there, Gabriel had already saddled one of the Transylvanian stallions, strapping the cloth bags to the saddle of the animal.

"Van Helsing," pleaded the friar as he stumbled in front of his friend, "what are you doing? Where are you going?"

Leading the horse out of the stables by the reins, Gabriel tried to push past the friar. But Carl, suddenly overcome with a newfound bravery, stepped in front of Gabriel, blocking his way out. Gabriel stared at his friend with deadly serious eyes.

"Move, Carl," he said firmly.

Carl looked as if he were about to turn and run, but he didn't move. Gabriel pushed past his friend again, this time, Carl didn't resist. He was at his wit's end and couldn't find it within himself to stop his friend. Gabriel led the horse out and down the dirt road, leading to the city. The horse's breath was like fog on the air as Gabriel lead the horse out into the streets of the city. With his foot in the stirrup, Gabriel mounted the horse, slinging the crossbow from a leather strap on the saddle. Again Gabriel paused, fighting with something in his mind. But he seemed to get over it quickly and he spurred the horse which roared to life and galloped down the stone streets. Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to look back as the shops and sandstone homes that lined the roads were replaced by flowing fields of crops and the odd dark farmhouse. By the time he had cleared the boarders of Rome, many hours later, Gabriel could still hear the echo of Carl's voice in his ear, calling after him, asking him where he was going.

.:I:.

Dracula awoke to the sound of his own scream. Whatever had jolted Gabriel from his sleep had somehow affected him as well. Dracula shook his head to clear away the sleepy mists that had swallowed his mind. As his body jolted to life, Dracula regained his whereabouts. He was still in the slate hallway, sitting against the wall, the candles that lit the hall had all been blow out by his own force. Now, just as suddenly, Dracula willed them to light. Tiny orange flames flickered as they suddenly rose to life on the tiny candelabras that lined the arced corridors. Dracula almost winced as a dim light filled the corridors, he loved the darkness, the darkness was more unemotional, numbing. You could get lost in the darkness, and never have to come out.

The vampire sat in the shadows for a moment as the flames threw orange light on the walls that danced on the walls and floors. Dracula decided one of the flames was burning too bright for his liking and with one sharp glance out of the corners of his green eyes, the flame snapped out. Even though there were no windows in the corridor, Dracula knew it was night. He always felt stronger at night, like whatever demonic power stirred within his hollow body peaked during the night. And besides, his sensitive bat-like ears could sense the vibrations of the far-off calling of wolves, howling up to the moon.

As the events of his sleep began to remake themselves in Dracula's mind, the vampire let out a soft snarl of anger and frustration. The Count dug his claws into the stone floor as his rage flared. He had come so close. _So close! _He had had Gabriel under his power--Gabriel was almost pathetically weak to him in his dreams--he could have crushed his mind with one flex of his force, and Dracula would have enjoyed the act greatly. But he had showed…_mercy _on the damned bastard! He had offered Gabriel his memories to him on a silver platter, and then sudden had been jolted awake.

Something must have woken Gabriel, Dracula thought to himself. Gabriel had been powerless to him; something must have found him asleep and woken him. Another surge of fury coursed though Dracula's body and he slashed out again. The Count sprang to his feet with rage and anger flowing through his emtpy viens. But suddenly, he was deprived of all strength and he fell against the wall. His claws dug into wall and his wrist strained to keep his balance. He felt slightly dizzy, like he had when he first awoke in the snow by the cart-trail. He felt hungry, yet he had feed not two nights ago.

A sound echoed in Dracula's mind. It was very vague and inaudible at first, then, slowly, grew into a pounding thud. A sharp clack rebounded in the Count's mind as the thudding sound became louder still. The sound came in rhythm, _Thlack, thlack, thlack._ The sound was unmistakable, horse hooves. Dracula shook his head to try and ride himself from slapping cracks of noise, but the sound remained bouncing off the walls of his skull, becoming louder with every pulse. _Thlack, thlack, thlack, _the thudding rang out in his mind. Louder, louder the pounding grew. Dracula clawed at his ears, but the thumping continued. What the hell was this? What was happening to him?

_So you can hear it, Dracula. I knew it wouldn't take more then two times._

The voice was back, somehow stronger this time.

"What is it!?" Dracula gasped, the pounding clack of horse hooves was almost deafening and rising in decibels with every galloping pace.

_It's Gabriel, _said the voice simply, _He's coming, he's riding a horse out of Rome as I speak._

"How…what…what do you mean!?" The vampire hissed, still clawing at his ears in a vain attempt to make the pounding sound of horse-hooves end.

The voice sighed and was silent for a moment, then said, _Dracula, you've never been one to be so ignorant. You can't tell me you don't know. _The voice paused for a moment. Almost as suddenly as they came, the horse-hooves dulled and eventually faded from hearing as if the source of the noise was moving further away. Confused for one of the first times in many, _many,_ decades, Dracula stood up from the wall and waited for the voice to go on. _You of all people should know the consequences of contacting a living being via their dreams, Dracula. I can see by looking into your mind that you are not lying, you truly don't know what was going on, though I must say even _I _am surprised you are so ignorant of this._

Dracula seethed with fury, not appreciating the voice's sarcasm.

Well then, Dracula, the voice carried on riddled with mockery, _I guess I shall have to help you through this. You've been able to reach into the living's minds and control them, no? Like that pathetic Prince Velkan who proved so useless. Well, contacting a person in there dreams is similar. The only thing is, you aren't in control. Not something you're used to are you Dracula, being powerless, hmm? _the voice taunted._ But then, you have been rather powerless in this '_life' _now haven't you. Anyway, in the subconscious level of dreams, you are equal with the living--_Dracula snarled at the thought. The living were ridiculously blunt, weak and petty creatures--_But once you make contact with a living being in their dreams, you become bound, connected. You're tied to Gabriel._

Dracula snarled again in anger, "I've always been connected to that damned man. Ever since that day! Yet I can't escape it, not even in death."

_But now, _the voice continued, undaunted by Dracula's outburst, _both of you are entwined, on a greater level. Once you make contact with a living in dreams, you're subconscious minds meld into one another. You are part of him now, Dracula, _the voice went on, _your pain is his pain and his is yours. Sometimes, if the settings around you both are right, the currents connecting you will lock together and both of you will get sudden flash of each other's current environment. It will happen from time to time. This time you could hear what Gabriel heard, like the horse-hooves, since Gabriel is riding a horse. Another time you will be able to see what he sees or feel what he feels. But with each pacing episode, they will become more intense. _The voice was suspiciously kind now, _He's coming, he's coming vanquish you again. This will be your last chance Dracula. Your last chance to give him his memories, but after that...then _we_ will be needing you for a greater purpose._

Dracula whirled around as if to face the voice, then remembered that the voice as only in his mind, "What purpose?" snapped the vampire who suddenly remembered that those were some of the last words that another pathetic human, Victor Frankenstein, had said to him before he put the waste of talent out of his misery.

The voice replied, _You will see when the time comes. For now, I must leave you again. Though I'm sure you won't be lonely. _A mirthless shrill laugh rang through Dracula's mind, something that reminded him of his bride's voices, and then, once more, the voice was gone.

The Count found himself almost upset the voice had left again, it had been someone to speak to, even if the voice wasn't the kindest of spirits. He couldn't care less. What did he care what some dead soul that had found his way into his mind-thought? But then again, who was this _we _the voice had mentioned. As Dracula recalled what _he _had said in the Fires, the vampire remembered something along the lines of 'I have more use for you.' What had _he _meant? Perhaps this voice was a minion of _his. _But Dracula didn't want to think about it right now, he found his aching muscles to be too tired . His body felt like it was dragging iron chains; every movement was fatiguing. Somehow, the young girl's blood which he had drunk a few days before had not sustained him very long. Maybe it was because he had lain still for so long. But whatever had caused the exhaustion, he needed to feed again.

Dracula hadn't even noticed as he had been walking aimlessly though the corridors, that he had come to a balcony window, overlooking the cliff face and the small town of Vaseria below. Small candle-lit streetlights lined the streets of the old town. Even from hear, Dracula's ears could pick out the drunken cheers of men in the many taverns the village housed. The vampire's lips formed a quiet smile, it would be easier to catch one if they were drunk.

Calling upon his true form, massive wings sprang from the Count's back and his limbs grew long and powerful. The features of his face rearranged themselves to resemble that a horrible hybrid bat. Dracula's jaw snapped with a clack and an animal-like bellow burst from his throat. With a powerful leap Dracula took flight, powerful bulking wings, cradling the night air, lifting him higher. His wings beating silently, the vampire swooped almost in a dive down the sheer side of the cliff, his thirst for heart's-life, intensifying with every beat of his wings.

.:I:.

The streets of Vaseria was quiet with night, savour the muffled laughs and cheers of the men who swarmed the many taverns by night. Thick snow draped the two-story buildings and steeply pitched roofs of the wood structures as well as a good foot of it on the ground dirt and hay-strewn ground. Warm yellow light flooded into the streets from a few open windows and doors. In the city square, the old church tower had finally been rebuilt after Van Helsing had oh, so kindly pinned Marishka to it with several arrows impaled through her chest. The stone well in the centre of the square echoed with the drips of melted snow. The odd call of a winter-raven spilled down from the mountains. From the shadows of an ally that lead into the square, two men walked together, laughing with drunken bliss. Both had been thrown out of the tavern for being too rowdy (something _very _hard to achieve in Vaseria) and had taken to wandering the streets aimlessly for the remainder of the night.

Dracula's heat-seeking eyes scoured the dark streets of the town for a blood-filled body of the living. But he could see nothing but rats, dogs and the odd horse. There was almost nothing out in the streets. And Dracula could not try to crawl up to one of the living in their sleep and take them then, for he could not enter a house unless invited in. Another problem with being un-dead. Dracula was snapped out of his thought as he realized that he was gliding too low to the town and beat his aching wings a few times to gain some height. He tired body was begging for blood and he was forced to glide to save energy. All he needed was one human, one living, and he could withstand the gnawing of the hunger for another month. Seeing nothing, the vampire circled back around over the core of the town, dropping lower this time. Still, the streets were empty of a living body.

_Thump. _A sound. The faint beating of a heart. Trimming his long wings Dracula made a sharp yet silent turn and twisted downward, landing silently on the steep roof of a house, claws clinging to the old wooden shingles. Crawling like a lizard would on a wall, Dracula scurried swiftly to the shadowed side of the gable, folding his wings against his back and pushing his body into the corner of the roof and gable, pausing for a moment. The massive bat strained its ears to listen. The pulsation of a human heart could be heard in the still night air. Just on the other side of the house. The slosh of blood pushing through the veins of living flesh. The sound was electrifying and it sparked a animal-like sensation somewhere within Dracula. For a moment, the animal instincts that Dracula normally kept barred up in his human form overwhelmed him. The mere sound of blood drove his senses mad and his fanged mouth snapped at the air with a wild, animal-like snarl. Then the Count quickly regained himself, and he froze, listening for anything that might have heard him in his brief beast-like fit.

Convinced that no one had spotted him, the Count darted over the pitch of the roof with one lightning fast movement and stopped head-first down the slope of the roof, regaining his energy. With his wings still folded tightly to his back, Dracula surveyed the centre square from his perch. The bodies of two men were visible in the town square that the house looked onto, it was obvious they were drunk, blindly drunk from the looks of it. Perfect, Dracula thought. One swoop over one of them and he could carry his victim off hopefully without his companion even realizing the other was missing.

He waited until both men had their backs to him. Dracula switched his eyesight to blood-seeking. The dark bodies of the two men were replaced with varicose skeletons that glowed with a soft warm red. One of the vein-entangled skeletons was slightly bigger than the other, Dracula decided that would he his target. The Count slunk down close down like a cat would before it pounced. His obsidian claws tightened around the wooden roof shingles in anticipation. Both men turned away. _Now! _screamed his mind. Springing from his down-facing perch, Dracula swooped through the air, his huge wings unfolding from his back. With silent flaps an owl couldn't match, the vampire beat his massive wings harder and quicker. Closer he came, sweeping over the stone water-well, closing in on the two men.

Twenty feet. One of the men had turned back around. His face pulled into a horrified gaze as the twisted bat figure came sweeping though the air.

Ten feet. The other one, Dracula's target, had seen him now. If Dracula could snag him on the shoulders, he could carry him off easy.

Five feet. The vampire threw his long back feet forward and flared his wings, obsidian claws flexed for the snatch.

His claws found their hold and Dracula screeched with delight. He flapped his wings once more and he lifted his victim from the ground. But suddenly, Dracula's sense began to swim and his field of vision was replaced with a scene from a forested mountainside. A horse was tied to a small sapling in a clearing on a hillside. Startled, Dracula tightened his grip on the man's shoulders. He could still feel his there, he could hear his scream, the air was cold with winter around him, but this scene of a forest had replaced his sight.

Then, suddenly, it was gone and both Dracula and the man fell the five feet to the ground. Dracula hadn't even come to a stop when his reflexes flipped himself upright and he snarled in fury and frustration. Just as suddenly as it had come, the strange vision was gone. The man Dracula had attacked screamed as he saw blood pour from his own shoulders. Dracula saw it too and his eyes blazed with demonic fury and hunger. By now, people had come rushing from their homes to see a massive hybrid bat crawling on feet and wing.

"Vampire! _Nosferatu! _Vampire! Run for your lives!" a woman screamed and more people flooded from their homes.

Dracula roared and the crowd shrank away. All hell broke loose as people screamed with panic. Chaos strangled the town and children and woman hollered in fear. The hybrid bat reared up and dove for the man that had been his original target. _It's stay here and be killed or starve, _his mind said and he wasn't about to let either happen. This time, Dracula snagged him with his front claws. Talons clenched tight and blood spewed from the man's shoulders. Wings flared Dracula rose into the moonlight, screams still rising from the square. From somewhere in the crowd, a gun was fired and the report shattered the air around Dracula as a bullet passed through his left wing membrane. But Dracula remained unaffected by the shot and wheeled around over the crowd, still carrying the screaming man pierced on his claws.

Fangs grew from the Count's jaw and they buried themselves deep in the man's neck, reaching farther then could be told with mere methods of human measurement, deep within the man's spirit itself. Blood oozed from the four wounds and Dracula retracted his fangs; there would be time to feed later. As the crowed watched in horror as the vampire rose with its victim up the side of the cliff to Castle Frankenstein. It returned. Their days of peace were over.

.:I:.

Dracula gorged himself on his newest victim, tearing at his flesh after every ounce of blood had been drained from his body. Dracula had returned to the same balcony window he had taken off from and had not bothered to take his victim anywhere. He simple kneeled on the marble floor, the dead man strune out beneath him. Kneeling over the dead man Dracula snarled with frenzy. His could feel the man's blood coming in to his own veins where they had once been hollow, surging though his body. The man's blood was still hot from his body and it filled Dracula with was probably the closest thing to life in four-hundred years. Soon however, the hot, sweet blood grew cold in Dracula's body, and the brief moment of bliss was gone. After what was perhaps hours the Count collapsed against the corridor wall, exhausted with he feed. His breath came slow, and Dracula felt something engulf him. A thick blackness poured into his body, pulling him under. Time slowed. The grains of the hourglass fell slower.

Time. It was a strange thing. A moment, gone, never to return and another comes to replace it. This things, we can never get back. Except in the memory, where they are preserved forever. Time is the one thing that the humans will never conquer, Dracula thought, no matter what they might think. They are not the superior race of the living, they are simply arrogant enough to declare themselves the superior race. They may build great things, invent new wonders, but they do not realize that if everything were come crashing down in one day, that life would go on. They are so caught up in what they have reduced life to, building this great system of life and work that truly means nothing. And what they don't grasp is that time will win out in the end, and they will never accept that, not until their 'world' comes crashing down. Pathetic creatures.

With panting breaths Dracula smiled through the blood that now stained his lips; he could feel it. Gabriel _was _coming nearer. He could feel it. The mountainside he saw earlier had been what Gabriel had seen. The name stung him somehow and Dracula repeated the name in his head. Gabriel. So many memories tied to that name, almost all had been ones that held good times and he held close to his heart, or had anyway. All except one. The last one he had.

But for now, Dracula could only wait, and the Count selected one of the these happier memories and allowed the new darkness to take him as he melted into the recollections of a more joyful and blissful time when cares were throw to the winds and camaraderie was a feeling that filled him until he felt his heart would burst with delight. But the only was, Dracula couldn't remember what that felt like.

* * *

Ragweed: Hehe, as you probably guessed, I know absolutely nothing about tacking a horse. I know only racehorses, (family business) so sorry if I got anything wrong. Well, besides that, I have nothing much else to say so, see ya in a week. 


	6. Reminiscence of Lost Joy

Ragweed: So, it was the weekend and I had just finished watching Underworld, reading Van Helsing and listening to the entire Evanescence album--all in the same night!--so I was in a pretty damn angsty mood, and I thought, why not write my next Van Helsing chapter. So, this one is really, _really_ dark, given all the vampireness that went into it, and we all know you'll enjoy that. Just so you all know, this chapter's a bit gory (trust me, more is to come) but this is the first chapter with blood (other then the nameless girl who was nobly sacrificed for Dracula, hehe.) But if you made it this far, it shouldn't be a problem.

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 5: Reminiscence of Lost Joy

"There comes a point when pain becomes so accustom, you forget it is there; you are beyond it."--_Revenge of the Whale_

.:I:.

The memory he choose was a good one and Dracula eagerly immersed himself in it. The scenario played out in his mind's eye as if he were watching it with his real eyes; detailing down to the last blade of flowing grass. Yes, the memory was a good one. Except for the other memories it brought up. For this memory was one of many glorious times that all ended with the same one. No matter how many times he remembered the best times, it all ended the same. And as the vampire watched and reminisced, Dracula could not help but feel a mix of anger and sorrow well up inside his hollow body.

Summer was in its prime in Transylvania. The normally snow-laden and mountainous country was now alive and sprawling with lush forests. Large leafy trees were broken up by the odd pine or fir tree that poked its deep green branches high above those of the oaks or birch. When the wind blew hard enough, the entire forest would shiver with music and the leaves with rustle and shimmer with every imaginable shade of green. The wind would laugh with shrilling glee as the leaves tugged at it in their summer dance. Animals of all type were out from winter hiding; deer, badgers, wolverines, squirrels. The country was alive with summertime.

Nestled in a steep valley surrounded by the forest, the small village of Vaseria lay hidden from the rest of the world. It was almost impossible to find unless you were looking for it, concealed by mountains and cliffs. The town was young but growing. Small wooden buildings centred around the town's stone well in the middle of the centre square. Shops and taverns occupied most the centre, while houses and farms were scattered at the town's edge. A slow but large, straight river ran along the glade-bottom, hugging close to one of the near, sheer cliff walls. On one side of this river, the village bustled with daily activity, on the other, the beautiful Valerious Manor stood in all its aristocratic and elegant glory.

The Valerious's were a wealthy family in Transylvania, partnered with the Gypsies in many ways. The large manor house had been completed only a few months before yet the large family had already furnished it and were living in the manor. The midday sun shone unhindered down onto a small courtyard off the side of the manor. The small yard was covered with stone, yet tall weed-grass pushed though the cracks of the slate. Rose bushes and rhododendrons were planted in the flower beds and grew massively tall with claret red blossoms as big as a human hand. In the centre of the stone patio, a small yet detailed fountain drizzled water over small polished stones and sparrows and thrushes zipped through the sky, chirping in delight as the wind lifted their wings. A waist-high hedge clipped down to the quick encompassed the courtyard in a perfect square, looking out over a small meadow before it hit the wide river. Two figures stood in the small courtyard; one leaned against the wall of the manor, watching the other who was standing at the hedge, gazing over the sprawling meadow and river next to the building.

"Good God, Vlad. You could stay out here all day if your father let you." said the tall man leaning against the stucco wall. He was unlike the other man, he was unlike any other man in Vaseria. His dark brown hair curled down to his shoulders. His skin was sun-kissed and tanned slightly from many days out in the wilderness. His eyes weren't coloured green or blue, they were a swimming chestnut brown instead.

The other man continued to gaze out over the waving meadow, "It's beautiful isn't it? The sun is so bright today."

The man could not help but roll his eyes at his friend. "It's just a field. You see it everyday. It's just grass growing from the ground. You treat it as if it's some holy ground."

"Yes, but it's beautiful, is it not? The wind whistling through the blades, waving the grass like one sweeping movement. You can hear everything. It's all so pure."

The man leaning on the wall gave a light-hearted laugh again and said, "Sometimes you're more bizarre then even I can imagine."

"You just don't understand," said the man at the field's edge, brushing his hand over the top of the hedge he stood by, letting the tiny, trimmed, stiff leaves of the plant scrape painlessly along his palm. This man appeared to be more like the Valerious family. His skin was fair and flawless. Black silky hair was pulled back of his fine-featured face. Jet back wrapped his body, including a limp, black, cloak that lazily draped his body near his ankles. And his eyes were a shimmering, liquid green that yielded a warm, secure sweeping feeling whenever you would look into their depths.

"No I don't," laughed the other. "I'll never understand you."

Dracula smiled, "You will one day, Gabriel. People like you and my father, you just can't see these things yet, not yet. But I know you will one day. When the clouds around your mind have cleared away and you can see truly for the first time."

Dracula had excepted his friend to laugh at this as well; but instead, there was silence for a brief moment and then Gabriel's voice suddenly was quiet and solemn, "Maybe then the nightmares will stop as well," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

Dracula was silent. He didn't know what to say. Nothing he could say would make either of them feel any better.

"I don't know what they mean," Gabriel continued. "I wonder sometimes if they are sins from my past and God sees it that I suffer for them. Maybe they were sins that I committed and He sees I am to be tortured by them forever as punishment, even if I can't remember what I did. I cannot remember at all. I suppose it is better if I don't remember."

"When memories are broken into shards and distorted, they are sometimes worse then remembering everything entirely," whispered Dracula and he felt a pang of sorrow for his friend. He turned to Gabriel. "I don't know what these dreams are for you, but I know this. You are not a murderer. These horrible things that you describe in your nightmares, they are not your past. You have not seen what I have seen in war. The deadness and coldness in these men's eyes before they kill. They beat their victims and cheer in triumph when they scream for mercy, as if they've won. It's sickening, it's sub-human." He turned back to the field with the rock-bare mountains rising in the background. This was the part of the memory that Dracula would have cherished the most, had he been capable of an emotion so power full as love.

"An animal doesn't do that to another animal once they've killed it," Dracula continued. "Creatures kill swiftly as to not let their prey suffer. Yet these murderers, they kill for the pleasure and thrill. That is not you. You will never become that. You couldn't, not you. For all I know, you could be an angel of some type."

Gabriel smirked at the thought, "An angel? You truly are one of the strangest people I've ever met, Vlad. Probably the strangest I'll ever see in my lifetime."

Dracula smiled. More silence came upon the two. But it was a beautiful, bliss-like silence of understanding of one another. The kind of silence that brothers that are not of blood experience when they need to say something, yet they can find nothing to say. The silence lingered on for a moment, one savoury moment, the Dracula turned to Gabriel and started toward the manor, "Come, you've still got training to complete. You couldn't fire a bow if your life depended on it. Which it probably will when the time comes."

With a joyous laugh, Gabriel followed Dracula into the manor, smiling with a happiness only the greatest of friendship can make. The courtyard was deserted once again. The sun began to set in the western mountain range, casting an unworldly wash of orange and gold over the twilight sky. Clouds became bordered with gold lining as the sun spilled its orange rays over the sky. And soon all that remained outside were the sweet songs of sparrows returning to their nests, and the whistling, pure, rush of the wind in the grass.

Claws of pain scratched at Dracula's mind as the memory faded and the night-darkened corridor came back into view. The Count's eyes fluttered open to meet the dark blue light that spilled in through the open balcony-door window. Propping himself up against the wall, Dracula tried to wake himself up and not waste time muse over the memory. What good would that do? It was the part of the memories, when they ended. It was like waking from a dead sleep: whatever dormant wisp of a heart that lay in his chest filled with a unwanted sensation of half-life when Dracula awakened. But no matter how many times Dracula awoke, the pain of the memories would creep into his mind before he could escape it.

As the memory came to an end, a strange, warm feeling poured into Dracula's body. It confused the vampire, the feeling was alien to him. He looked at his hands; obsidian claws sparkling in the moonlight. What was this unknown feeling? Dracula could feel it swim and move within his body, like it were a living, thriving creature. Spreading in his body like an intoxication wildfire. Then, quickly mellowed to a dwindling ember in his hollow body that left in with the numbing cold that consumed him constantly.

Was this happiness?

No. The answer was easy. Dracula cursed at himself for thinking it. Of course it wasn't happiness. He knew what it was. Reminiscence. Reminiscence of lost joy. Lost. A small electric current travelled down Dracula's nerves as his body awoke to life per sa.

It was only then Dracula noticed the foul stench of dead flesh that filled the corridor. The body of the man he had killed earlier had begun to rot. It was odd, but the smell of rotting flesh was something Dracula couldn't stand.

Quickly, he shook off whatever remaining emotions the memories had upturned and rose to his feet. The corpse of the man still lay by the large balcony window. Not surprisingly, there was not blood spilled on the marble floor. Instead, the dismembered body lay stripped of its flesh down to the bone in some places, the result of Dracula's animal-like fit that he had been overcome with earlier that night.

Dracula smirked down in disgust at the tore-apart body. Pathetic little creature. With a strong clawed hand, the vampire griped the body from where its neck should have been and hosted the corpse from the marble floor. Striding almost gracefully from out onto the small semi-circle balcony, Dracula held his arm out and dangled the mutilated body over the drop of the cliff. He looked over the sheer two-hundred foot drop to the hillside, then returned his gaze to the corpse, smiling.

"At least you shall die have known your death will let more then one creature not go hungry tonight," he said, his voice as smooth as mink fur. The corpse stared back at him, its empty eye sockets shrouded with bits of loose flesh. The body truly looked like a skeleton with shredded bits and pieces of flesh and cloth that happened to grow upon it. Dracula smiled, reviling his fangs, blood still caked on, to the corpse, as if to show the man what had killed him. Dracula always got some sick pleasure out of taunting his victims after they were dead. Then, Dracula released his grip on the neck of the corpse and it tumbled to the forested mountainside below. Dracula hadn't even gone back inside, when the triumphant howls of wolves could be heard rising up from the forest, thanking their master for the feast of meat.

For the first time in many decades, Dracula found he had some sense of his surroundings, instead of wandering aimlessly in the ever-darkness that always inhabited his mind. Striding along the second floor, Dracula arrived at the balcony that over-looked the Great Hall, where his children had once hung in mid-death, waiting in unconsciousness to be brought to life. Now, the grand room was empty, save the lifelessly limp cobwebs and brittle dry leaves that had found their way into the castle via wind or walker's footsteps. The marble floor had been left unkempt and the normally reflective polished stone was now dull and scratched. The large tapestries that once hung in rows on either side of the grand hall were either stolen, torn down, or torn apart. The large mahogany table that used to seat forty, was gone, though it once had been lavishly decorated with sprawling bouquets of flowers for centrepieces, Oriental table-runs that were embroidered with Chinese orchids and lilies had been stolen by now. The massive crystal chandeliers that once hung from the fifty-foot-high ceiling was cracked and some of the crystal strings were completely missing in some places. Funny, the thing that was supposed to bring light was now shrouded in darkness. The oak-panelling along the walls of the Great Hall that had once shined with glossy oils was now dusty and scratched tarnishing the perfect wood, mirroring, perfectly, the marble floor below it.

Carried by an empty wind, Dracula drifted slowly down off the rail of the balcony, lowering slowly until the firm alabaster floor could be felt under his feet. Dracula looked around the Great Hall now, his green eyes darting along each wall, form corner to leaf-riddled corner. He smirked to himself as the memories of what the castle had been faded in his mind and the unkempt, cobweb-covered room replaced the old, regal image. There was something different however, something Dracula noticed that he never had before. Chains. Coils of iron chains lay coiled in the corners and along the floor, each end of the chains, fused to the wall. Literally dozens of the coils lay shrouded in cobwebs as if they had been here as long as the castle had stood.

Paying no mind to it Dracula strode silently through the empty, dusty, deserted hall. _Clink. _Dracula spun on his heel, eyes flaring, face twisted into a terrible hiss. Nothing. Hawkish eyes searching the Great Hall like a snake. Silence, a silence that put Dracula on edge. _Clink. _Dracula whirred again to the origin of the sound, on the coils of chain. The vampire mentally kicked himself for being so paranoid. Old restraints of the castle were no threat to him; they were no threat to rats that lived in the castle, never mind the all-powerful King of Vampires.

It was only in the silence that Dracula felt the sting pain in the inside of his arms. Raising his arm he noticed blood on his black robes. Brushing back the long, wide sleeve of his cloak, Dracula revealed red-claret slash marks running parallel with his arm. They were deep, reaching to the bone in some places. Dried, flaky, blood acted as a block for any new blood that was not his to flow from his veins. The vampire's features contorted into another smirk. He knew full-well where the claw marks had come from, it was not the first time he had seen them; they were a common wound for a vampire. When humans were put in a life or death situation, their minds devolve back to mere animals of instinct, slashing and clawing at anything within reach in a feeble attempt to save their own petty existence. More likely then not, these particular wounds were the result of the man he had taken from the town earlier that night. (Dracula's mind strayed at this thought for a moment, it must almost be dawn) but often, if the human still had enough sense in the them to struggle while they were being carried off by the arms of a _Nosferatu_, they would strike out in animal-instinct at the closets thing--the vampire arms carrying them to their demise. Wounds such as these were not uncommon to any vampire. The vampires who carried their victims by their feet, would more often then not end up with slashes on their ankles. Not that it would hinder the work in anyway, vampire's were headstrong like that.

But it was funny, why had his body not healed these wounds automatically? Dracula's smirk became a confused frown. Perhaps, given he had only been Awake for the last three nights, the Healer in his blood had not awaken with him, and that meant the wound wouldn't heal. Only one way to fix that. Damn it. This would hurt. It had always ironically amused Dracula how the only thing a vampire was aloud to feel was pain. More punishment for being what they were, he thought. But now was not the time for musing, the cut would most likely become infected if Dracula did not tend to it, it would spread and fill his body with burning pain (but of course it wouldn't release him) and drain his body, making him weak and lethargic.

Dracula held up his right wrist and forearm, exposing multiple, narrow, claw marks running from his palm to his elbow, tarnishing his flawless skin in a clearly barbaric way. He examined the wounds. Angry black lines radiated from the claw marks, coursing along what should have been his veins. Infected. Damn it. It was almost pathetic how weak the immune systems of vampire's were, given all the other ungodly strengths they possessed. The Count guessed that if vampire's had the ability to heal themselves, why in hell would they need an immune system of any type? Disease was the answer. This was the problem of a vampire's weak immune system. If a vampire's immune system were too strong, its body would reject the blood every time it fed. With no immune system to produce antibodies, a vampire could drink any blood and survive on it. But no antibodies, also meant no natural defence against infections and disease. And the infected wounds of a vampire are not easily cleansed.

Dracula mentally readied himself, their was no easy way to do this. He brushed back his black sleeve, revealing the grotesque sight of claw marks and black infection. At first, he took his left talons and lined the obsidian claws with one set of five parallel slash marks, attempting to re-open the wound. But their were so many sets of the claws, each crisscrossing and running into the other, the thought crossed Dracula's mind weather it would be easier to simple bite his wrist open. No, that wouldn't work, all the infected flesh that was to whole point of all of this would be lost. Pressing his claws into his own wrist, Dracula quickly dragged them along the closed-over claw marks. Cold claret blood surged from his forearm, and instantly the Count brought his fangs to the blood, drawing in deeply; it vital to keep the wound clean.

Given the fact that the wounds were new, the blood that had hardened to keep them closed sliced open along the original claw-lines with ease, which was a good thing. The infection and dead flesh would be easier to remove. Dracula dropped to his knees, keeping his bleeding forearm below his cold-blood-beating heart. Red-purple blood flowed in streams down the vampire's arm and pools of cold scarlet began to collect on the dusty marble. Drawing in cold blood was not as a pleasurable experience as drawing warm heart's-life, but Dracula couldn't think about that right now. Unhooking his wrist from his fangs the vampire wrapped his other hand in his cloak and pressed hard on his forearm. Icy blood soaked through the black cloth. Deciding it wasn't going to get any better Dracula released his forearm. Five reopened slashes bled without end from his wrist, the amount of blood that began to pool around him was ever-growing and Dracula needed to work fast. Turning his attention to his slashed forearm, he could already see dead, black, flesh along the edges of the claw marks, shrivelled with infection. With two long claws the vampire picked the end of one of these strands of dead flesh. With a quick tug, string of flesh was torn from his forearm and pink new flesh could be seen underneath, before it to, was swallowed up in blood.

Dracula once again brought his forearm to his fangs and drew in deeply. This time, for the blood, not to keep the wound clean. He had only fed twice since he had Awoken and a good quarter of his blood now lay poured out over the marble floor of the Great Hall. With so little blood in his cold body, Dracula could feel whatever existence he had on this Earth slip with each drop of shed blood. Damn it! he cursed at himself. The vampire's breath was coming shallow and ragged as he broke his fangs away and instantaneously tore away another strip of black shrivelled tissue. Another, followed by another. Only now did the pain really begin to sink in, now that his body was slowing and his mind was becoming numb. Kneeling on the floor, Dracula tore away another strip of dead flesh. The last one. All the remained on his forearm was new pink flesh and rivers of blood flowing from his wrist and forearms.

Now for his left arm.

Not bothering to tend to his shredded arm, Dracula tore open his left arm. More blood gurgled up from his arm, washing over the floor. Dizziness overtook the vampire as the full effect of the blood loss began to course through his body. Shaking his head weakly, Dracula hooked his fangs onto his arm and drew in. Cold blood filled his mouth as the vampire fought desperately to keep conscious. Rivulets of crimson poured from body his forearms as Dracula released his wrist but new blood quickly flowed to where the Count had cleaned it away. Through blurring vision, Dracula tore away one of the strands of infected flesh. But the lack of blood in his veins was taking it's toll. Damn it! He'd worked too quickly, to much blood was pooled on the floor around him. Blackness clouded his vision.

His grip on reality slipping away, Dracula leaned forward on his bleeding palms for support. But he had to strength and his arms collapsed beneath him. Lying in blood that was not his, the vampire struggled for breath. He didn't know if it was the blood loss or the infection that was racking through him. Driving his claws into the floor Dracula struggled to raise himself, but found know energy within him to do so.

In the end, Dracula found himself smiling. If he were to die like, it would be such an ironic end to the reign of the King of Vampires. And as darkness and blood finally overtook him completely, the last thing Dracula heard and felt was the clinking of chains on the floor and the cold embrace of metal dragging him down.

* * *

Ragweed: Well how's that for a biology lesson on a vampire?! I got the idea from watching Law&Order one too many times. It may be sick but forensics fascinates me. Many murder victims have been able to lead investigators to their killers by skin that ends up under their fingernails after desperately scratching and clawing at their murders out of animal instinct. The investigators can match DNA and skin cells with suspects to find the murderer. But some killers who know this will burn their skin with acid to skew their skin cells. I know way too much about this, don't I? (LoL)

Dracula: That's enough to make me grimace…

Ragweed: Now, this chapter originally going to be more debate between Dracula and the voice he's hearing (which will turn out to be significant!) but I thought we had enough of that already so I made it a gore fest! Actually, though, all of this information _will _become important. So I needed to explain this all anyway and it would have been really weird to have a boring. sixteen-line paragraph in the middle of the original chapter describe this whole thing. So this wasn't a completely pointless gore-fest of a chapter (even if it was fun LoL)

Dracula: You are sick…


	7. Willing for Darkness

Ragweed (singsong): _I'm back_, I know you all missed me!  
Dracula: No we didn't…  
Ragweed: Watch it! Your life is currently in my hands! Ahhhh! Holy crow! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in over three weeks! I didn't have internet access for the longest time. I was out in Prince Rupert camping with my uncle and was trying (and failing) to improve my archery abilities. (Don't I live an exciting fun-filled life?)  
Gabriel/Carl/Dracula: _Get on with it!  
_Ragweed: Fine…. Um okay, reviews. Atleng: Wow, that must be the first time I've ever caused physical harm to a reader…this gives me so many ideas! I actual never watched 'Days of our Lives' and the other I've never heard of. I'm not a big soap opera person…. Anyway, thank you _so_ much for your long reviews! They make me want to write so much more! Verona, glad to know we're both either very weird, or very smart when it comes to vampire biology.  
Gabriel/Carl/Dracula:…riiight.  
Ragweed: Okay, I'm going to say that, Jet, Tsume and Hige (three of my muses) overtook me on this one so, this chapter may not be the best, I'm sorry. I tried my best but this chapter was just a bit difficult to write. I will return to more frequent updates after this.

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 6: Willing for Darkness

"'Cause I'm broken when I'm open,  
And I don't think that I am strong enough,"--'_Broken_'Seether

.:I:.

"Damn it!"

Gabriel wiped a small amount of blood from a line of small scratches on his arm that the thorns of a blackberry bush not far off thought he needed. It wasn't that they bled, it was that they stung like hell. Two thumbnail-sized thorns were embedded in the flesh of his forearm. Pinching his skin, Gabriel tore the two thorns from his arm without much thought. He had had a lot worse happen to him then stinging blackberry thorns.

The days had gone by slowly so far; riding through the foothills of the Carpathians was only so exciting after doing it so many times. Gabriel had noticed how much colder it had gotten though. The tail end of winter was slipping out of Europe, leaving a chilling, damp mist that clung to the trees during the early days of spring. Thick, flat, grey clouds hung low in the darkened sky, threatening to rain down upon the forests and meadows of the foothills. Old stone walls of long forgotten farms and homes were hidden from view under ferns and vines and overgrown shrubbery. The stone and wooden foundations of ancient homes lay crumbled in the fields that sprawled along the foothills. Trimmed green grass fields lined with hedges and trees blanketed the rolling foothills while the mountains loomed in the distance, shrouded in the thick mist. Towering like angry black gates, guarding the snowy misery that was Transylvania.

Gabriel's mind wandered as thoughts of Transylvania returned. A stab of guilt hit him square in the chest as his true motives behind this entire journey began to be questioned in his own mind. Had he tricked himself into leaving everything and thinking that there was something he was actually running to? Running from? More guilt surfaced from deep places within his soul he thought he'd locked away long ago. The long-forgotten voice of reason gnawed in the back of his mind. Whispering almost mockingly, _What are you running from, Gabriel? You know there is nothing to find. Your letting your own weaknesses take over you. You were trained to not let that happen. It seems you're slipping, Gabriel. Running never did anything but leave people broken hearted behind. Think of the Order, you simply abandoned your duties there. Think of Carl, he's been your only friend and you've cast him aside. Think of all the people who will suffer because you let your own paranoia overtake you._

"Every achievement comes with sacrifices," Gabriel whispered aloud to the voice. It was a line he had repeated many times to justify what he did. Justification more for himself then for others.

_Ha! _scoffed the voice. _Achievement!? What exactly are you achieving here, Gabriel?_

A mix of what felt like rage and hidden guilt built within his body as Gabriel's horse trotted along on the worn dirt path up into the mountains. Silence returned and remained unbroken for several hours, save the singsong calls of red-wing blackbirds, flushed from their long-grass hideaways by the clopping of horse hooves.

Soon, the ground underfoot became rockier and the sweeping green grass and the fir trees were replaced with the brittle and bare shrubs of bracken and thicket. The mountains were still thriving on the coattails of winter and the temperature in the air dropped far bellow freezing. As Gabriel and his horse climbed higher along the mountain side, a fringe of thin, spare snow lined the bases of small boulders and rocks that dotted the steep landscape. Soon, Gabriel's breath as well as the horse's became a misty fog on the frozen air.

After what seemed like several hours further, the black Transylvanian stallion crested the top of the first crag. Gabriel almost winced as his eyes fell upon the snow-blanketed range of mountains that lay between him and Transylvania. The white mountaintops seemingly stretched on forever, dipping and rising in shadows of a shining sun. Raised far above the mist, the sun shone in cold light, bright enough to cause a man to squint. Spares was the amount of foliage in these unworldly heights. Only small groves of pine and fir trees like cypress and arbutus grew in the shadowed dewy dells in-between mountain peaks.

_A long way to go for nothing, _mocked the voice.

Shoving the doubting thoughts from his mind, Gabriel spurred his horse in the flanks. The animal reared to life, pawing its fore-hooves at the air for a moment, then with a whinny and a rage of whipping mane and leather, the horse took off down the first of many mountainsides to come. Onwards to Transylvania.

.:I:.

Night fell surprisingly quickly upon the Carpathians. Almost instantly as the sun slipped behind the uneven horizon, the indigo shield of the night sky chased away the sunlight and glared down upon the horseshoe-shaped mountain range. The blue-indigo lights of the night caused the ivory snow to glow. The powdery, thick snow was luminous with a soft white haze. But, this was hard to noticed, given that the winds and snow raced around overhead. Torrential amounts of snow whipped through the air along with hail and wind. The snow was so thick in the air, it felt as if the very air was liquid, making breathing near impossible. Ebbing and flowing, the hail struck without mercy down upon the mountaintops. Snow tipped, were the peaks of the swelling mountains. In-between the rising mountains, small dells and depressions in the rocky soil were buried under feet of powdered snow. Here, in these dells, small groves of high-altitude trees grew such as cypress and aspens. The small dell that was nestled in the tops of the mountains would have provided great shelter, had anything living been in the depression of rocky terrain. But, as you may know, very little lives in the frost-bitten tops of the mountains of Carpathia. This does not mean, however, that nothing ever visit's these lonely mountains-peaks. For at that moment, settled in the copse of cypress and young redwoods, a man and a black horse sheltered away from the storm that raged outside the meagre shelter of the copse.

Gabriel drew the deerskin blanket further up on himself. Even in the black shelter of the cypress and aspen copse, the air was still sharp with the icy bite of winter. The Transylvanian horse, an animal that naturally took to sleeping upright, had lain down near the base of the massive cypress Gabriel had lain against to sleep, to keep the blood in its legs warm. Concerned that the animal would freeze in its sleep, Gabriel had drawn the thinner, smaller, rabbit-skinned blanket over the animal's back. The rabbit-skin Carl had sewn together on their first trip to Transylvania after Gabriel had brought the animals back to eat. (The little friar was and endless river of talents, be they odd, useless, or useful.) But surprisingly, the horse had not stirred when Gabriel draped it, as one would expect such an animal to do.

Gabriel feared the animal may be ill and the fright it would die was ever-present. Though with the way his luck was going, Gabriel would be too surprised if the animal did parish. _It would top every thing off, _he thought with a bitter smirk. The stallion, Gabriel guessed, must have been well over five years of age. And a strong, long-distance, cross-country running horse like the Transylvanian would break down at a younger age then a working horse would have. Meaning this would more the likely be the animal's last run. Shifting onto his side, Gabriel faced the stallion a few feet from him, laying among the gnarled cypress roots.

"One last journey, boy," he whispered, not really to the horse, "then you can go home." A sad smile crossed Gabriel's face as memories of Anna he had long thought gone by now returned and began to circle in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to suppress him. It was ironic, the only memories he had were the ones he wanted gone the most.

Moving onto his back once more, Gabriel pulled the deerskin up 'round his neck. Settling down as best he could the darkness settled in. The snow and hail wailed outside of the tightly-nit grove of cypress and redwoods and every once in a while, the far-off howl of a wolf would jolt the senses of both Gabriel and his horse. But, despite all of the icy wretchedness that raged just outside of the grove, even Gabriel was surprised at how quickly sleep came in the misery of winter.

There were no more dreams that night, nor the presence of the Ghost Dracula that had invaded his mind. In fact, sleep had been blissful blackness that night and Gabriel cursed as sensation of consciousness returned to his body. Twisting onto his stomach, Gabriel arced his back and let the blood in his body move again. Stretching his arms, letting his skin re-fit his body, Gabriel drew in a deep breath and held it, deep within himself, stretching his ribs back into the right shape of his body, then let it go and sink back into the cold embrace of the cypress roots. Laying for a moment, Gabriel aloud all the thoughts in his mind to swirled and skip around before he forced them to rebury themselves away deep within his mind. Someone like him could not afford such emotions to rule him.

_Then what am I doing here?_

The first thing he noticed--despite the fact that a rather large amount of frost had sealed his eyelashes shut for a moment before he woke--was that the storm had letup during the night and in its place a bright sun shone down in the little copse that filled the bowl-shaped dell; as well as the tips and peaks of the rest of the mountain range. But despite the piercing sun, the air was still cold and bitter.

Flipping the deerskin off himself, Gabriel sprang to his feet and stretched his arms out as sleep slipped its grip from around him. Pulling his leather full-length coat off the ground--which he had sprawled over himself during the night--and pulled it over himself, shaking what little snow there was off of himself. The horse, Gabriel noticed, was already awake and was pulling at its reins, which were tied to a redwood sapling, trying desperately to nibble at the newly-blooming flowers of a hawthorn bush. The rabbitskin that Gabriel had draped over the horse that night lay shaken off on the ground in the mangled cypress roots.

Glad that the animal had survived the night, Gabriel release the horse's reins from the tree and let it feed on the little amount of grass and foliage there was. Turning back he rolled up the animal skins and stuffed them into his cloth bag. Throwing the sacks into a pile under the horse's saddle, which he had hung up on one of the lower branches of the cypress tree, Gabriel took in another deep breath and let the tensions gathered over the night to let slip from his body. Stepping out from under the low-hanging pine-needle branches into the edge of the dell. The instant his bare skin touched the frozen air a large shudder swept through Gabriel's body. Only then did he notice the lack of feeling in his fingertips. Rubbing his hand together to bring his blood back to life, Gabriel suddenly felt his legs tremor and give-way beneath him and he sank to his knees in the snow.

The image hit him hard, knocking him to the ground. Harsh pounding in his head struck him and Gabriel was thrown to the ground. Twisted and fragmented, the image played out in his mind, moving quickly and jolting. A piercing whistle broke his ears and Gabriel clamped his hand over them in a desperate attempt to stop to the howling, although he was sure that he could feel blood ebb from them. Some invisible force grabbed him and Gabriel's body refused to breathe. Everything became swirled and broken and shattered. Screaming. People screaming. Memories. His memories. Confused shards of memories, distorted, warped and twisted into something beyond recognition. But, they were his. As always, a terrible pain swept through his veins as the nightmares began. Darkness enfolded him, spiralling down into emptiness that he seemed to never come out of. He didn't fight it though, he found, that he didn't want to. The Darkness Engulfing seemed so welcoming. Perhaps the ending wouldn't be so terrible. Perhaps it would be easier for it all to end. And the last thing he heard before the image began was the racing clack of horse hooves towards him and the panicked screaming, of a strangely familiar voice.

_"Vlad watch out!" called a voice from the side of the cliff, "You'll get yourself killed."_

A laugh sprang up from the tangled tree limbs hanging over the hundred foot cliff, "It is almost ridiculous how much you can be like my father at times."

The waterfall roared down from a good thirty feet above head, then cascaded down the cliff-side into the frozen lake a good hundred feet below. On either side of this massive sight, two cliffs jutted out near thirty feet down the falls walling the falls in. Gnarled trees grew straight from the cliff faces, their leaves constantly soaked in it's mist. But know it was winter and the trees were laced with pure white snow. At least two feet of untouched snow lay among the woods and on the trees on the valley's mountains. The birch trees that rose majestically from the white ground made for a beautiful sight in the forest.

Hopping nimbly along these branches, a young man, no more then twenty, leaped outwards along the tree limbs until they bent so far it seemed would snap under his weight, but they didn't. As usual, Vlad was dressed in all black, his long, silky, black hair pulled back into a braid. With the abilities of a cat, Vlad crouched low on the outmost branches, gazing almost in childlike wonder at the massive falls that roared and cascaded down in front of him.

"Well your father will roast us _alive if we come back from this hunting trip empty-handed," replied Gabriel, stringing his bow together and reaching back for an arrow in the quiver strapped to his back by a leather sling. "Now, get back from there before you fall!"_

"Well then, Gabriel, it seems you have a choice," said Vlad, turning on the branch with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, "you can either wait for me and we'll go back and be roasted alive together. Or, you can go back now and be roasted alive yourself."

"Or we can leave now and still catch up with that herd of roe deer you scarred away," shouted back Gabriel over the roar of the falls, loading the arrow into his bow.

Turning back, Vlad leapt from one of the branches of the mangled trees protruding from the face of the cliff to another closer to the solid ground, "I seem to recall that you were the one who spooked the bucks. That one almost ran into you. Now, get my arrows, I'm coming back."

Rolling his eyes at his friend, Gabriel strutted over to a large snow-covered bolder near the edge of the woods and lifted Vlad's quiver and unstrung bow from the tree they rested against. With the agility of a cat Vlad sprang from one snow covered branch to the next, shaking what snow that had settled on the branches off and would pause to watch it flutter to the misty white abyss below. Brittle twigs breaking and scratching at him as he did. But, as always, he did seem to mind. Almost at the cliff-edge Vlad came to one of the larger jumps he had to make, nearly eight feet from one branch to the next. Crouching on all fours Vlad readied himself and shot one last look at Gabriel.

"Think you can make it?" he said with a laugh, stringing Vlad's bow back together.

"If I don't and I fall, I'm blaming it on you."

And with out another word, Vlad sprang, the jump had been easier then he had expected and for a second, he worried if he had overshot the jump. But he landed almost perfectly, coming down crouched on all fours. The tree limb wavered under him as the impact of his land traveled through the wood of the branch, shaking off what snow had settled along the branch. With his landing a success Vlad shot another smug look at Gabriel who rolled his eyes. All he needed to do now was walk along the tree limb on the cliff and parade his achievement in front of Gabriel who would, in turn, knock him on straight to the ground.

Oh what fun, _Vlad thought with a smug snicker added. Tightening his hands around the thick frosty tree limb below he prepared for the final leap. _Snap. _Vlad froze, nerve endings surged with adrenalin, his ears perked. The sound…had it come from the branch he was perched on. _Crack. _A long net of cracks spider webbed across the full length of the ice that encased the tree limb. Flakes of ice fell from dizzying height into the white mist oblivion below. _Clack. _That was no ice…that was the wood. The wood beneath his feet, the wood that the only thing separating him from life and death. Slightly, he was sure he felt the branch underneath him shift. His heart thumped so loudly in his ears he was sure he could feel the blood pushing through his veins, _Oh, God, Archangels, Virgin Mary, anyone up there who may be listening, _Vlad swallowed hard and raised his head to look at Gabriel, _Don't let him see me die like this.

Gabriel rose slowly to his feet, eyes fixed on his friend, balancing perilously on the frozen tree-limb, only five feet from solid ground. Had…had he really heard that sound. The terrible sound of ice shattering and wood splintering. Had it been some frozen branch on a tree in the forest? Both men froze, waiting for the other to say something. Vlad's eyes rose and locked them with Gabriel's. Some unspoken terror travelled through Vlad's eyes into Gabriel's. Some unspoken words that called out to his friend, an unspoken, yet loud and desperate plea.

Help me.

"Don't…move," he whispered as he edge toward the cliff edge where Vlad perched frozen. As Gabriel, still clutching Vlad's strung bow quickly heard another body-breaking snap as the wood splintered along the centre once more. Gabriel flinched and stopped his advance, as if worried--since technically he was walking on the roots of this tree--his movement would cause the tree limb to break. After a few moments of absolute stillness (save the waterfall that roared dully in the back) Gabriel edged closer, returning Vlad's unspoken plea.

Hang on.

Through the sound of his pounding heart, Vlad tried to weigh the situation. If he was quick enough, he could leap the remaining five feet to the cliff's edge. But if he missed…he would plummet a good hundred feet to the frozen lake below, and most likely his death. But he if waited perched like this, the tree limb beneath him my fall before Gabriel could reach him. His nerves came alive with fire and adrenalin so much he felt himself trembling and prayed silently that the subtle movement wouldn't cause the tree branch to shatter beneath him.

Locking the bow in one hand Gabriel, now at the teetering edge of the cliff knelt down one knee so he was eye level with Vlad. Gabriel reached out with his other hand to Vlad. Green eyes shone with fear, something Gabriel thought was non-existent to Vlad. Gabriel was sure his own brown eyes reflected Vlad's fear perfectly, but he couldn't think about that now. He was jolted out of thought when he felt Vlad's cold, slender hand interlace with his outstretch one. They locked eyes once more and they silently agreed….

1...2...

Crawo! _Wood shattered and ice flew. Whatever solid ground was beneath Vlad vanished and the white mist of the waterfall below opened up to swallow him. He trashed out with his arms, trying to find any hold before he plummeted into oblivion. His slender fingers closed around something, something smooth and wooden. Force of Vlad's weight on the bow jolted Gabriel flat on his stomach, his hands and arms, still grasping the bow, hanging over the edge. With one hand on either tip of the bow, Gabriel looked down with panicked eyes at Vlad hanging above oblivion. Sheer, unbridled fear shone in the young aristocrat's eyes, a look Gabriel had never seen in his friend before. And it shocked him. But that was not important now._

With a sudden, newfound strength, Gabriel hooked his arms under Vlad's, the bow cradled between them, and with a great heave, pulled the young aristocrat up onto the cliff. Solid ground met him with a surge of relief. Snow embraced him in a cold yet welcomed grip of life. For a moment, they sat kneeling in the snow, panting, staring at each other, the roar of the waterfall still surging in the background. Unshed tears of absolute fear on the edge of his eyes, Gabriel grabbed Vlad and pulled him close, the salty tears threatening to fall from his eyes. His heart pounded with relief and fear. Gabriel wrapped his arms around Vlad tightly, just to make sure he was really there, just to make sure he was really with him. Gabriel drew a shuddering breath. Thoughts Gabriel believed he would never have to face invaded his head. He had almost lost him, his one friend in the entire world, the only one who cared about him and understood him. He had almost lost him. The thought was impossible to even believe. He just wanted to hold on to Vlad and never let him go, for if he did, he feared that the falls would open up and steal with only friend in the world away from him.

Vlad didn't do anything. His heart was pounded too hard to make thought possible at the moment. The only thing he could think to do at the moment was to return Gabriel's embrace, holding his friend tightly to him. Kneeling in the snow, Vlad released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He tried to speak but words would not come. Vlad held Gabriel tight as he felt a sob wrack his friend's body.

"I'm so sorry," Vlad finally whispered next to Gabriel's ear, burring his tearing eyes in Gabriel's long, curly brown hair. The young man mentally kicked himself; his own foolishness had nearly cost himself his life. And Gabriel's. His own recklessness had nearly left his best friend standing at the top of a cliff were his friend had stood only moments before. "I'm so sorry, Gabriel." Tears fell from his eyes as guilt raged through his body. How could he have been so stupid!? He pulled Gabriel tighter into himself, so close he could feel the man's heart beat within his chest. A heartbeat he could sense was racing with fear and thanks.

Gabriel's eyes, too, filled with tears that began to fall, "Don't be, Vlad," he whispered through sobs. "You…you just scared me." He unconsciously wrapped his arms tighter around Vlad, afraid to let him go. Afraid that if he did, the young aristocrat would vanish forever. "You scared me. I thought you had gone over. I thought you were dead. Oh, don't do that again." Gabriel could feel Vlad's heart beating in his chest. Heartbeat. That meant life. That meant, Vlad truly was still with him. Gabriel held Vlad tighter still.

_A small, vacant laugh escape through tears, "Glad to see you care so much."_

_Vlad had not expected the sharp shove that had followed his comment. Snow crashed into his face as he was slammed into the ground. Quickly shaking the confusion from his mind, Vlad look up to what had struck him. He was shocked to see Gabriel standing above him, Vlad's blood smeared on his fist. Only then did Vlad feel the warm blood begin to trickle from a gash along his cheekbone. Vlad gazed up like a rabbit-in-headlight up at his friend who, just a moment ago, was sobbing that he had almost fallen to his death. Now, he was know staring daggers down at him._

For a second time, Vlad was at a lost for words. What…what had he done? More silence fallowed until Gabriel finally broke it, "How dare you question my friendship to you!" he screamed almost hysterically, salt streaks dripping from his face. "How dare you think I not care! When I wandered into Vaseria five years ago with nothing to claim as my own, you were the only one to care for me. Even if your father looked down upon me as your friend you didn't care. I thought you valued my friendship. I thought you knew I would do anything to help you! Of course I care for you! How could you think that!?" Gabriel stared down at his friend with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. Slowly he back away from he friend as if he were some diseased animal.

Vlad looked on with, surprisingly, sadness in his eyes, "I…I…" he stuttered. Staggering to his feet Vlad, leaning on his right leg--somehow his left leg had been injured. Staring in shock he reached out to his friend, Gabriel almost instinctively shied away from his touch. "Gabriel…. I'm, I didn't…I'm." With every advance on his friend, Gabriel back away, staring at Vlad like he were a leper.

"Gabriel!" both Vlad and Gabriel froze in midstep. Vlad placed two slender hands on his Gabriel's shoulders. Piercing green eyes bore deep within Gabriel's soul, searching him for something. It was a look Gabriel received many times from Vlad once he had done something wrong. Gabriel felt like a child being scolded by its parents. He half expected Vlad to strike him back; he would deserve it. So, he was very surprised when Vlad drew his friend into himself in a warm embrace. I'm sorry, _Vlad thought desperately, _I'm so sorry.

_At first, Gabriel tensed at Vlad's embrace, but then, he remembered. He remembered that he was not the Son of the Dragon, he was not the young man who would once rule over all of Transylvania, he was not the tyrant his father was, he was his friend, Vladislaus Dracula. His only friend in all of the world. And he had just hit him. What had he done?! _Vlad, I'm sorry, _Gabriel thought, his voice at a lose for words._

_"This world you live in, Transylvania, it is petrified in a time of war," Gabriel whispered, "and yet you find it in you to take me in as your friend. I'm not deserving of your friendship."_

"No, don't say that. You've been my only friend as well. My father, the people, they, he just doesn't see you the way I do. For what you really are. They treat you like this, because you are not of our religion, not of our blood. I do not care what he thinks. You are my only friend, I value your friendship more then I value the throne my father will leave me. Without you, I would have turned into a tyrant like him. I may saved you from death, but you saved me from much more."

Gabriel was silent for a moment, then released Vlad from his embrace. With a small smile, he wiped the tears from his eyes, "Are you hurt?"

Vlad returned the smile, "Oh yes, deathly, my friend, I don't believe I can walk. My farther will kill you for letting his only son nearly fall to his death over a waterfall in the valley-mountains. When he sees what you let me do…he's going to treat you like a Muslim prisoner."

"Well I'm sure he would be much more distraught if I were to simple push you over the edge. Please remind me why I saved you, again," laughed Gabriel, but as soon as he said it he could feel the humour leave his voice. Vlad's answer was simple though.

"Because I'm your friend."

Another silence hung in the air for a moment

"Come," said Gabriel tightening his long, brown, winter cloak around his neck and tossing Vlad's quiver and bow to him, "Let's see if we can still find those roe you scared off. If their as slow as you they should still be on the mountain side."

Vlad smiled and slung his quiver over his shoulder, "Fine, my friend." he said tightening his own black cloak around his neck, "A wager then. If you can shoot the first buck down, I'll carry it home. I've seen you with a bow; you'll be carrying the meat home tonight." And with the last word Vlad took off into the white forest, Gabriel rolling his eyes, hot on his tail.

Here, the image ended, leaving Gabriel in a black abyss of nothingness. But Gabriel found he could not awake. Fighting with his own body he tried to open his eyes, but could not will himself to. Instead, the darkness remained and everything was silent. No. There was a noise. A voice. Calling to him_. _It was familiar somehow. Very familiar. Repeating something. His name. A sudden pounding in his head snapped his train of thought. Some sense of feeling returned to his body and he could see a red, crackling glow through his eyelids. Fire? There was certainly warmth. But, he hadn't started a fire. The voice returned, along with a thumping pain in his head. Memory came back slowly. The small grove he had spent the night in, the storm, the memory. _The memory? _Another mind-breaking blow hit him and he heard himself cry out.

"Van Helsing?!" A familiar, frantic voice called.

Gabriel felt his head being cradled in someone's arms. Cool hands slid down his face, and held him still. Gabriel felt his body shiver at the chilling touch, was his body really that hot? Still unable to see, Gabriel struggled to re-establish his mind in his body. He desperately reached out blindly, his hand tightening on the arm of someone. Animal instinct kinked into his body instantaneously and he clawed his hand into the body of whoever was holding him.

"Van Helsing, calm down! Don't worry, I'm here. Oh Van Helsing, please don't die." But the deep, heavy, veil of unconsciousness was creeping up on him slowly once more and the voice calling to him seemed to become further and further away. Energy suddenly voided him and his death grip on the person released as blackness began to enfold him once more. Deeper within himself he was buried until the voice became nothing more than a weak cry.

"No, Van Helsing! Please Van Helsing, don't die! Don't die! Please, wake up! Van Helsing!"

He couldn't answer, he was too far buried in blackness. An invisible weight on his lungs prevented him from breathing. He was gone this time. This was it, the end. He had always wondered if he was able to die. Apparently he was. Numbness replaced the pulsing pain in his head and soon, nothing could be seen or heard and the cold rapture of darkness pulled him under.

One may find it humorous or ironic that both the terrific monster Dracula and the great demon hunter Gabriel Van Helsing would meat the same fate so close in time. Each by forces that run far deeper into the fabric of the universe, run far deeper then any being, human or demon, ever could. Both snatched from the world and locked into somewhere deeper within the darkness that is ever-present in the world. We just can't see it, for it takes us only when we ask, only when we can no longer sustain or lives and we wish for everything to end. Willing for Darkness to take us. But, even the universe and be wrong, once in a million years. For without Dracula and Van Helsing, there would be no story now would there?

* * *

Okay, everyone with me, 1...2...3...awwwwww. That was so sweet. I feel cheesy, who wants to hit me now?

(Hands skyrocket into air)

Ragweed: Thought so. Well how's _that _for a cliffhanger!? I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter even if isn't the best, but it wouldn't come out right when I wrote it. Damn you Forces of the Universe! Well, I promise better updates from now on. Till then….


	8. The Good Feeding the Evil

Ragweed: Yeah, time for another chapter! I'm so happy!  
Carl: Not you, I thought we'd gotten rid of you.  
Ragweed: No, I will haunt you to the day I die. Well, on a random note, I've been trying to think what I'll be for Halloween this year, either a vampire or a LOTR elf (yes I'm 15 and I still go, I mean, dude, its free candy! I'll do it 'till I'm 20!) And I know Halloween's like, three months away but, this is how exciting my life is…I have nothing better to think of!  
(lull) Anyway, reviews! Verona, Holy shit! it _is _you! Yes I _did _quote you in my bio! I can't believe you actually read it! But it's, like, the _perfect _phrase that describes me! I hope that's fine. I'm glad you liked the chapter, I didn't think everyone would like it too much because when I wrote it, it just wouldn't come out right for me. Oh well, glad you liked it! Atleng, eek, you mean there's a fire in the sky!? Does it burn out your eyes? Well, glad you got around to reading the chapter. And thanks for the comment. I read Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ and tried to put some of this Dracula's personality into this Dracula. Glad it's working!

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 7: The Good Feeding the Evil

'Now that I know what I'm without,  
You can't just leave me,  
Breathe into me and make me real,'--_ 'Bring me to Life' _Evanescence

.:I:.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Carl tried to hide away the terrible thought that Gabriel might die. When he had found the man, after trailing him up into the Carpathians for a few days, unconscious at the edge of the dell, he never truly thought Gabriel wouldn't awake. Gabriel just seemed too strong and untouchable to be brought down. But as the day rolled on and noon came and left and the stars began to sparkle like diamonds emblazed into the dark shield-shaped sky, the little friar's hopes began to dwindle with the sunlight. It had been hours and Gabriel had not stirred from the deerskin Carl had placed him on in the snow. Sometimes, he would mummer incoherently in his sleep or stir and toss as if struggling with some unseen tormentor but he had never once awoken. Gabriel seemed feverish or ill but Carl could not find any visible wounds or signs of sickness on him, and this made Carl even more concerned. The little friar prayed as the night cast its sleepy shroud over the Carpathians that his friend would be alright. But as the little friar would soon learn, prays are not always answered.

When night settled on the mountaintops, Carl started a small fire by Gabriel and himself. Nearby, two Transylvanian stallions, one Gabriel's and the other Carl's, slept upright on their hooves, their reins tied to a small stake driven into the hard, frozen, ground. Off in the distance, the howling cry of wolves could be heard and once again, Carl prayed silently that the wolves would not be attracted by their scent and come their way. When the fire was blazing bright and red, the little friar took his own deerskin and laid it overtop of Gabriel, who was still sleeping in a seemingly unconsciousness state. Turning back, Carl and sat down close to the fire and pulled his brown friar's robs around himself to try and keep warm, but was overall more concerned for Gabriel; he couldn't tell if his friend was getting any better or any worse. Carl cursed himself silently for not bringing more animal skins or wools.

The little friar fought off sleep for most of the night. He was determined to see Gabriel through the night. But the bone-chilling cold of a sunless environment was started to take its toll on the Carl. Numbness began to take hold of his fingertips, his breath became an icy fog on the air, his body began to shiver uncontrollably with each pacing hour. Struggling to keep the thoughts of the cold out of his mind, the little friar stared up at the sky. A small sliver of a waning crescent moon rose of into the east. In the back of his mind, Carl counted how many more days to a full moon (it had become a habit ever since his journey to Transylvania.)

"Eighteen days," he whispered.

Not that it meant anything. No, it was just the moons revolution. No reason to become paranoid over a full moon. But even as Carl thought it, flashbacks of massive, snarling, rabid werewolves with flashing white teeth in snapping red jaws and frenzied yellow eyes took hold of his mind. The little friar cringed at the image and quickly shook it from his head. As he did, Gabriel suddenly jolted in his sleep. Carl's mind instantly snapped to his friend. Gabriel twisted his shoulders and arched his back as if electrical currents were sweeping through his body. His face was frowned in pain and agony and Gabriel screamed in a high-pitched shriek that seemed almost unworldly. A sound of pain and agonizing evil that would have made werewolves flee with their tails between their legs. And it made sleeping bird burst from their perches in fright.

The little friar jumped to his feet and was instantly kneeling by his friend's side. Groans of pain escaped Gabriel's lips as he twisted in agony. Hands clawed at the air in animal instinct as Gabriel muttered feverishly in...Latin? Even in his shock Carl was taken aback at this. Since when did Gabriel speak Latin? But he didn't speak like anyone who had learned it, the Hunter spoke it so swift and fluently; he spoke as if he had been, born to it…?

Whatever fit had taken hold of Gabriel, by now, had ended and the Hunter fell back onto the ground, panting as if exhausted. Hazel eyes snapped open, unseeing, caught in the torture of dreams, caught in some terrible Darkness. Carl sat frozen in a mix of fear and shock. Everything was happening far too fast for the little friar to grasp at the moment, his mind raced with questions that were answerless. The friar's voice was momentarily lost as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. Seconds past, though they seemed like eternity, finally, Carl was able to force out a name.

"Van Helsing?!" Carl took Gabriel's head into his arms as he noticed the man's breathing become slower and become shallower. Not only that, the Hunter was hot to the touch, feverishly hot. The little friar lay his hand of Gabriel's brow, it was not hard to feel the unnatural heat there. Despite that, the Hunter's breath was slipping from his body.

Fewer and fewer were the gasps of air Gabriel forced into his body. The tautness of his muscles became weaker as life seeped out of his body. His eyes shut once more as if his mind, hidden somewhere in the Darkness was excepting what was about to happen. Carl's mind once more was on fire, fearing springing at him like a massive snarling beast waiting to seize him in it's jaws. Words flew from his mouth, begging Gabriel to waken.

"Van Helsing, calm down! Don't worry, I'm here. Oh Van Helsing, please don't die." But even as the little friar stared down at his friend he could feel the Hunter's very life dry up from his body. What ever little life was left in Gabriel was beginning to drip away.

"No, Van Helsing! Please Van Helsing, don't die! Don't die! Please, wake up! Van Helsing!" Carl cried again, his voice hysterical in his own ears. He prayed with all his heart that his friend's body would pull air into his lungs. But it was far too late, Gabriel was long gone, his breathing had stopped, and his body was already getting cold.

.:I:.

The Fires did not come and it surprised him. He was sure the Fires would be there, waiting to greet him with licking heat and pain. They had been there the times before to take him in, so he was rather shocked when they did not appear right away after the Darkness had taken him. There wasn't anything waiting for him, nothing but blackness, cold ever-sprawling blackness. A darkness that seemed to move and swirl with empty winds that stirred in the abyss. But wasn't that just as bad as the Fires?

Dracula struggled to open his eyes. His entire body felt like a sack of wet sand, heavy and lifeless. His writhered around, trying to find his body again, but found he couldn't move. As feeling slowly returned, he could fell something holding him still, nearly squeezing the air from his lungs. Mentally, he did a sweeping check of himself from head to toe: he was being held, suspended in the air by whatever was holding him, whatever had him was not wrapped around his head and he could feel himself pull air into his lungs; his shoulders were crushed together closely, his shoulder-blades nearly touching; his arms crossed across his chest, hugging himself; and the rest of his body was hanging limp in the air. Dracula fought to open his heavy eyes again, but found no strength within himself to do so, but his ever-unbroken spirit would not let himself be beaten so easily. Once more, his forced his body to obey his commands and his leaden eyelids slowly opened.

Blurry and distorted, Dracula's vision was anything but helpful as to figuring out where he was. Everything was dark and grey, completely unrecognizable. Once more the vampire tried to moved against his bonds, but once more found his restraints were too tight, whatever held him held him firmly. Dracula inhaled deeply and the bonds tightened against the swelling of his chest, painfully. Flinching inwardly, the Count squinted and tried to focus his eyes. Slowly, the blurred, dark images began to assemble themselves. The room was impossible to not recognize, it was the Great Hall. Shocked, the vampire tilted his head down. His entire body from the neck down was wrapped in chains, the chains that were attached to the dusty walls of the Great Hall, holding him suspended in the air. Links of metal criss-crossed each other in midair, holding the vampire firmly. So many were the numbers that it was near impossible to follow a chain with ones eyes through the spider-webbing of metal. Animal instinct kicking in a Dracula pulled hard against his restraint, the chains didn't move, didn't even rattle as he fought against them. Soon, Dracula's broken body gave-way to sheer fatigue and exhaustion and he slumped back into the metal, letting it hold high above the scratched stone floor of the Great Hall.

What had happened, why couldn't he remember. Think, what had happened, why was he like this?

Everything hit Dracula so fast, like a choppy, broken sea. Memories flowed through his mind with the intensity and force of a racing river pounding down upon the mountainside. His bleeding arms, pouring with his infected blood, the voice that had invaded his mind. What had happened to him? Had he been brought back? Was he returning to Hell?

_Don't be so concerned Vladislaus, you are too valuable to allow be trusted with you own survival. We can't allow you to sub come to your own self-destruction._

Instantly, Dracula's mind became alive, his muscles tightened with adrenalin. His bat-like ears were perked to the slightest noise that echoed throughout the fortress. That was the voice, the same voice. Sly and mocking, ringing in the back of his mind like a demon that refused to leave him alone. Something close to fear crept into Dracula's dead, still, heart as the voice began to speak again.

_Did you think that was wise of you Dracula? To bleed yourself like stuck game? You nearly killed yourself, _the voice said, calmly.

Perhaps that's what I was trying to do, thought Dracula bitterly, swallowing hard.

_Honestly! _the voice spoke again, allowing itself the smallest amount of emotion, _we cannot have you leaving now, everything is too close to completion._

Dracula cursed himself, he had forgotten the voice new what he was thinking. The vampire squirmed in the metal's cold embrace, trying to keep his wrapped arms from burning in pain. When the voice did not speak again, Dracula said with a weak voice, "Why am I here? Why am I in chains like this?"

The voice's tone became one of disappointment and scolding, _We've learned you left the castle last night. Killed a man. We cannot have you discovered Dracula. You have become pathetically weak in your mind since your Awakening. We will not risk you leaving the castle again. _Then voice added with a slight amount of annoyance the voice added, _Your little stunt with your slashes nearly ruined us. You nearly cost us yourself and Gabriel._

Dracula's neck snapped up and his voice was suddenly filled with a concern that surprised even himself, "What happened to Gabriel?"

The voice seemed equally surprised by amount of passion in the vampire's voice and was silent for a moment before responding, _Dracula, do you not remember me telling you and Gabriel are now connected, your subconscious minds are now melded together. You bled yourself to near-death, Gabriel's body and mind had no choice but to follow. You drifted dangerously to death, Gabriel did the same. You two are connected now with your minds, your senses, and your lives. You live, he lives. You die, he dies._

"But I'm not dead…"

_No, _said the voice simply, _but you are immortal. Gabriel, Gabriel is more closely human. He will not recover as quickly as you._

Dracula could not find himself to say anything. He was ashamed that he cared so much if Gabriel died. Why should he care? That damned man who took everything from him, cursed man who did not deserve God's mercy. He wanted Gabriel dead, he wanted to kill him, he wanted to drink his blood from his veins and laugh at his dying body. He wanted it so much. He needed it so much. Despair filled his hollow body and Dracula closed his eyes and dropped his head, letting loose strands of his black hair fall in front of his face. Being dead wasn't supposed to hurt so much, he wasn't supposed to be this weak.

"I need to feed," said Dracula finally, "The Healer in my blood hasn't awoken with me yet, I can't survived much longer with out blood."

If the voice had a face, it would have been smirking ear to ear, _We've already seen to that. They are already finding you warm blood as we speak._

Dracula raised his head and frowned, "They?"

As if on cue, the two massive oaken doors at the far end of the hall burst open, releasing thrashing wind and snow into the dormant castle. The room came to life, the large wall tapestries billowed and thrashed as a ice-stabbing wind rushed into the Hall, the massive chandelier rattled and clattered as the cold current of air wound through it. Flurries of snow whirled as the wind shrieked in the black night outside. Appearing from the swirling snow, two massive grey wolves bounded into the Great Hall, their shaggy coats encased with snow, sweat and ice. In the jaws of one huge wolf, a man, obviously dead, was being dragged by the neck across the floor as the wolves ran up to Dracula's body wrapped in chains. As the beasts bounded up, the chains binding the vampire's body began to release and unravel. Like the coils of a snake the links of metal slowly unwrapped themselves from around his body until all the supported the vampire were two chains secured around his wrists, one around his neck, and one around his waist. The two wolves came to the suspended vampire and instantly skidded to a stop just below their master, gazing up at Dracula's chained body.

The wolves were massive, the each at least the size of a newborn foal. Their eyes were both a terrifying electric yellow. The wolf that held the dead man in its jaws had blood smeared across it muzzle and grey shaggy neck. The form of these beasts were that of a demon one would see in a child's nightmares. But despite their size, both of the animals were ridiculously scrawny. Ridged spines raised along their backs in-between two shoulder blades. The bones of their muzzles under the beast's eyes were well-defined under taut-drawn grey fur giving them a sick, malnourished look. Ivory fangs a good two-inches long pierced from the snapped red jaws. Black claws dug into the marble floor in anticipation. The wolf that carried nothing in its jaws snarled at snapped at the ankle of the dead man in its companion's jaws. But before the wolf could get hold of the kill, the other wolf jerked its neck to one side, pulling the dead game out of reach of its partner, and giving a low growling warning. The other wolf growled in response, obviously angry that they could not share their kill yet.

After a moment the links of metal began to lower Dracula to the cracked floor, loosening themselves as they did so. An electric current swept through Dracula's body the instant his feet touched the ground shocking his nerves to life. All strength escaped him and the vampire fell to his knees in front of the wolves as the chains finally slipped loose their grip, shuddering from what appeared to be coldness. One of the wolves, the one without the man in it's jaw approached its fallen master, nudging his shoulder and whining like a child's concerned dog. Dracula smiled quietly as the soft radiance of the wolf's natural body heat warmed his cold flesh. Thirsty for some form of warmth, the vampire wrapped a sore arm around the wolf's shoulders pulling it close to his side. He hadn't realized he was so cold.

The second wolf, fallowed its companion and came up to Dracula. With a swing of its powerful neck, the animal tossed the dead man from it's jaws in front of its master. An ugly slash was gouged into the man's neck and even now, new warm blood was pouring out like a small rivulet. Dracula's eyes blazed and he leaned forward, sinking extended fangs into the cooling flesh of the victim's neck. Crimson blood poured out over his throat in a warm red river. His empty veins screamed for life and his eyes turned a frightening icy blue as he stared out over the man's neck to the two wolves. The two grey beasts licked their muzzles at the sight of newly killed flesh. But they let their master feed.

Drawing deeply, Dracula drank quickly as the blood was cooling rapidly. Warm blood spilled over his teeth in a gushing red torrent, filling him momentarily with a living-warmth until the blood cooled and settled in his dead veins. After he'd drank all he could, Dracula unhooked his fangs, sat up and inhaled sharply. Panting, the vampire slumped down, releasing his tightened muscles and dropped his gaze to his lap, and in doing so, caught a quick glance of his slashed arm. Brushing back black robes, Dracula inspected his wounds. The wounds themselves had scarred over nicely for the most part, leaving slender white lines criss-crossing along his forearm from his wrist up to his elbow. The Healer in his veins must have awoken by now, for after what he had done to his forearms, he was surprised he could still use his them.

Returning his piercing green-eyed gaze to the two wolves sitting in front of him, Dracula noticed them staring longingly at the dead man laid between them licking their muzzles and whining softly. Judging from the storm outside, food must be scares for wolves this time of year. Reaching out with right arm, Dracula grasped the man firmly behind the neck and raised the limp form slightly from the stone floor, presenting it to the wolves. The animals raised their electric-yellow eyes to meet their master's and Dracula nodded in some form of approval. Instantly the animals dove forward on the body, tearing at the flesh for indeed, it had been the first decent meal they had had in many weeks for the Transylvanian winter had been unforgiving.

Dracula smiled softly again. Shifting his legs underneath him, the vampire struggled to stand, but still could not find the strength and collapsed back to his knees. Immediately the gorging wolves reverted back to servant-animal mode, leaving their kill and moving on either side of their master, bracing their bodies against him. Placing a clawed hand on either one of the tall wolf's backs, Dracula pushed himself up again. He could feel the wolves tremble under his weight, but they did not whimper or bark. Once he was upright the wolves stood by his side as if to be sure their master could support himself.

Only then did the voice, who had been silent this whole time, begin to speak again, _Their names are Réhabah and Jahul. They are two of the Royal Wolves._

Dracula felt his breath catch in his throat, "They Royal Wolves?!" He said aloud.

The massive wolves seemed to respond and howled loudly, barking and baying in an almost frenzied state.

_Yes, _replied the voice, its emotionless monotone pitch never wavering, _You know the story don't you Dracula? It has been told to the children in Vaseria for nearly five-hundred years._

Dracula nodded, "Yes, it's an old fairytale nothing more," the vampire's voice had regained its aristocratic dignity.

The wolves seemed to understand this as well, and growled.

_No, do you remember what the story is?_

The vampire frowned, not sure what the voice meant, "It says that the Royal Wolves were a species of wolves that were put on the earth by the Angels to protect the small town of Vaseria, but no ones knows why. Some say it was because Vaseria was built on some holy ground, other had various reasons. It is said that the Wolves were fierce some beast, as big as horses yet they were kind creatures and never attacked those who lived in the town."

_Do you know what else?_

The vampire felt dread brewing in his stomach, "It is said that these Wolves," he forced out the last words, "are the ancestors of werewolves."

Instantly the two Royal Wolves growled and snarled like rabid dogs, leaping and clawing at the air.

_Yes, _said the voice, a sort of pleasure detectable under the monotonous flat of its voice. _But what you don't see Dracula. The stories are true. You remember everything, yet there is some much you don't know. Everything you think to be true…there is so much you don't yet know. So much we can't tell you yet._

"What do you mean!?" Dracula's head was spinning with so many things he did not understand.

_We will tell you in time. For now, you should retreat somewhere deeper within the castle, the sun will rise soon. You must contact Gabriel. He is still captured in the Darkness. You need to help him awaken. You must reach him before he dies._

"Why?!" snapped Dracula, the wolves beside him began to pick at the death corpse again. "I thought you wanted Gabriel dead. That's what's supposed to happen!"

_Calm yourself, Vladislaus. Do not let your emotions get the better of you. There is much more going on here then you and Gabriel. He must survive until he reaches Vaseria, then we will start what needs to be done._

"And what will become of me once this great plan is put into use. What will become of me?" countered Vladislaus, confused and angry with the voice.

_You, _started the voice, _you will be released. Released from the curse of walking the night, of feeding on the blood of others. You will be set free Dracula._

Dracula's stomach fluttered at the thought. He couldn't believe what it had just heard. If possible, he could have gone paler with a mix of pure joy and disbelief. It had been over four-hundred years since he'd felt the sun, four-hundred years since he'd felt the softness of the wind. So long it had almost faded from memory.

"…Released?"

The voice seemed to smirk at Dracula's childlike disbelief, _Go now Vladislaus. You must reach Gabriel before he is lost. I have ordered Réhabah and Jahul to stay with you for now. Be quick, we cannot loose Gabriel._

Suddenly, something in Dracula sapped all energy from the vampire's body and he collapsed to his knees. Réhabah and Jahul were instantly by their master's sides whining and licking his hands and sides of his face. But Dracula did not try to fight it, he knew what was happening, he was used to it by now. He would find Gabriel and then, revenge would be his at long last.

* * *

Ragweed: Okay, so this wasn't the best chapter. Sorry. I know it was short, but that's all there is to this part. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Next chapter will be up soon! 


	9. The Evil Feeding the Good

Ragweed: WHEEEEE!! I'm out of my slump! This chapter isn't terrible! I know the last two weren't great but this one is much better.  
Dracula: Oh joy…  
Ragweed: Okay, um, lets think what do I need. For those of you who are confused, the Royal Wolves are relevant to the story, I'm not giving you guys random unimportant things. Sorry, it's just a lot of people get angry for some reason when you give them some foreshadowing. Lighten up people!  
Carl: Ragweed, you're scaring what few readers you have away!  
Ragweed: Fine, um reviews. Verona, again, thank you for your kind words, they are great motivation for me, because God knows the muses don't do their job.  
Legolas: We do to.  
Hige: You just don't listen.  
Jack: And you're not all that bright.  
Ragweed: twitch Who invited you guys, this is a Van Helsing fic! Anyway, you people out there, just go on and read…

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 9: The Evil Feeding the Good

'It was a beautiful letdown,  
When you found me here,  
And for once in a rare blue moon,  
I see everything clear.  
I'll be a beautiful letdown,  
That's what I'll forever be,  
And though it may cost my soul,  
I'll sing for free.'--_The Beautiful Letdown, _Switchfoot

.:I:.

A numb blackness enveloped him and Gabriel welcomed it with a long sought relief. Life wasn't supposed to hurt that much, memories were supposed to be kept locked down, buried, never revisited. Dark times of one's past should be kept out of sight and out of mind, and which soul had more dark times to visit then Gabriel Van Helsing's? The numbness was so easy, it took away all his pain, his memories, his nightmares. The scars on his back didn't burn anymore, he had all but forgotten they were there. For the most part, Gabriel simply sat in the Darkness, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth slightly, thinking of nothing; he didn't need or want to think of anyway. He was perfectly content to remain here forever until he pined away in the Darkness to be lost forever. So when an all too familiar grey coldness swept up his numb body, Gabriel's heart swelled with despair and he prayed silently, that it would spare him this time. But then, when were Gabriel's prays ever answered?

As always, Gabriel sensed Dracula before he saw him. A white-blue iciness that seemed to originate from the triangular scars on his back, then crept slowly along his spin to his neck and head; like icy claws that grabbed him like a vice and would never let go. Gabriel felt his body begin to tremble, but he refused to let fear get to him, he refused to let this get the better of him. He was strong then whatever this was, he _was._

"Gabriel," the coldness was emanating from his left side, as if that was the way Dracula was approaching from. But Gabriel didn't look up, he just hugged his knees closer to his chest and remained silent, fury and anger burning deep within him.

A swift black figure darted in front of him, pausing near Gabriel for a moment then quickly sweeping out of sight. Gabriel tensed and shot a hateful look at the figure as it took off. It hadn't been long when the swift blur of darkness dashed by Gabriel once more, causing him to flinch ever-so-slightly. The presence vanished momentarily, and Gabriel let his tensed-shoulders fall and thirsting, gladly welcomed the Darkness into his body again, ready for it to take him completely. It would be so wonderful to be enveloped in the numbness and never have to live or breathe again. So wonderful…

Then suddenly, the Dark was all around him, very close to him, and it filled Gabriel to his dead core with a wild fear he had never felt. The mere presences of the Darkness made him shudder and want to cower away. But, trembling, he held fast and told himself only a few more moments before he was taken. A claw-like hand grabbed Gabriel from the back of his neck and with quick and not-too-gently jerk, tossed Gabriel to his feet before he could react. Instantly, Gabriel's years of training flooded back to him and he spun around to face whatever grabbed him. And who it was did entire surprise him.

Dracula step forward from the Darkness, green eyes staring, piercing Gabriel to his centre, and yet somehow, not filled with as much hate as Gabriel remembered. They stared at each other for a moment, neither daring to breathe, and then Dracula spoke.

"What are you doing here Gabriel?" he spat. It was not a question. "Are you content with pinning away in the Darkness? Do you find it fitting enough for you?"

Gabriel simple stared back at the vampire, not fight, not hate, nothing stirring in his brown eyes. Simply a vacant stare empty of any signs of life or warmth, or a soul. Dracula narrowed his eyes as if Gabriel were mocking him. If Dracula had one weakness, it was how easily his ego was bruised. And the vampire was not nearly as bad as he could become.

"Then maybe this is what you've sunk to after all of these centuries. Perhaps this is what you've become after all. But it is not the Gabriel I remember," the vampire noticed his voice had softened with his last statement so he added quickly in a harsh tone, "But then, you wouldn't remember at all would you."

If the remark had affected Gabriel, not even God Himself would have been able to tell. Dracula's only response was an empty, cold, dead stare. It reminded Dracula of the eyes of his victims, not when they were alive but not completely dead yet. Almost…almost a pleading stare. I cry for something. But Dracula was unmoved, it simply infuriated him further. The vampire's body tensed and his deep green eyes shut-over with shallow icy blue, like mirrors or glass. The vampire locked onto Gabriel's dead gaze, boring into his with cold blue eyes. Searching him for something, something long-lost to both of them, and at time, something neither of them had ever stopped looking for, not entirely. But as always, Dracula could not find it, no matter how many times he would search Gabriel's soul, it was always empty, hollow and numb. The vampire screeched in rage as his attempts to break the man went no where. Dracula's rage poured into Gabriel and a hot furry seethed through the man. The scars that marred Gabriel's back began to burn, fiercely. Somewhere deep within his mind, Gabriel new he should be screaming, yet, that part of him was gone. Buried deep, locked down, suffocating, never to be realised again.

Dracula was almost shocked, nothing was working. He remember the voice telling him he needed to wake Gabriel, yet so far, all his attempts had come up short and time was not with him. Frustrated and at his wits end the vampire let his tightened shoulders fall and released his grip from Gabriel. Cold blue turned to green and rage and frustration were near boiling points. Dracula looked back at Gabriel. Nothing had changed, vacant expression, eyes colder then anything Dracula could remember seeing. A look so lost and pleading, wishing.

Like him.

Almost before Dracula realized it, sharp, obsidian claws raised high and came slashing down upon unmarred flesh. One swift move brought down upon untouched skin, burning black daggers. Cold blood wept from newly-opened wounds. The vampire blinked and his face twisted into a confused frown. What had just happened? With a panting breath, Dracula looked down at his trembling hand; cool crimson blood clung to his black talons, blood not his own. Instantly, the vampire's neck shot up to meet Gabriel's dead stare. Five, slender, parallel slash-mark cut across the man's face. Yet Gabriel didn't seem to notice, didn't seem to care. More silence past and Dracula tried to process all that just happened. For the first time in wait was most likely centuries Dracula felt surprised, shocked at his own actions. Never once had he ever felt out of control of himself, his emotions--what little of them survived--didn't rule him; that isn't the way of vampires at all. And especially not he way of himself. Yet, Gabriel's cold blood stained his black claws and bled from his face. And it…scared him that he couldn't control himself. Because if he couldn't, what the point of him being here still after all these wasted years.

Gabriel was surprised as well, even if he did not show it. Not shocked at Dracula's outburst (if anything he had expected that), but more so surprised that it didn't hurt. Even now with blood starting to trickle down his face, nothing hurt, nothing told him to scream or fight back even though somewhere deep within told him he should. Something was screaming at him to breathe, to fight, but it was just so far away now, too far lost. Gabriel suddenly felt no strength. Already numb limbs gave way and Gabriel collapsed to his knees, jolting Dracula from thought. What tiny vision their was began and Gabriel's senses began to swim. Was this it? Was the Darkness finally taking him? Oh how he hoped beyond anything else it would come and claim him. Finally relieve him from the world of falling shadows. And Darkness took hold and dragged him down and everything was black.

.:I:.

Gabriel fought his friend and tried to sit up, "I am fine, my friend, let me get up."

Vlad was not moved however and kept his friend firmly pressed down against' his bed. "No my friend, you are not going anywhere. Not with your broken arm."

Gabriel snorted but gave up the fight, although he would never admit it, he was very tired, "Broken," he muttered, "I've slain wolves and rode horses across the mountains in the rain and snow with worse wounds. A winter hunting trip will be nothing."

Smiling, Vald stood up and walked to the other edge of the small healing room where the room's one window was covered by a set of very heavy and dark drapes drawn in front of it. With a swift tug, Vald pulled the drapes back allowing the milky-white overcast light of the day pour in the room. Gabriel squinted at the sudden light. The fact that the town was now covered in a good three feet so solid white snow didn't help for now, reflections of stark snow-light were also shinning in, harshly.

"There," said Vlad with a tease in his voice, "Now you have a scene to imagine this hunting trip you'll be going on. My father and his hunting party are waiting on me _however so _I _must be going."_

"And Gabriel _must be going _somewhere _or he will go insane kept pent-up in this room after two weeks," muttered Gabriel from his bed bitterly._

Vlad, who was, as always, dressed in black, picked up his bow and quiver from the chair they were slung over and tossed them over his shoulder. Gabriel never liked to be left behind, but his arm was not merely broken, muscle had been severed down to the bone as well and that would take longer to heal, even if Gabriel was impatient. Vlad, though he wished Gabriel was able to accompany him, new that the risk of his friend causing further damage to himself was high and was not willing to let Gabriel take it, no matter how hard he fought. The young aristocrat came next to his friend's bed and bent down over him, wrapping on arm over Gabriel's shoulder and resting his brow on the side of Gabriel's curly locks.

"Deal with it a little longer," Vlad whispered in a kind tone. "I'll be back in four days with new deer and bear meat to cook."

Gabriel sighed, "I don't think I can sleep that long," he laughed softly, "but I'll see what kind of sleeping draught I can find in Eldan's herb collection over there then." Gabriel pointed quickly at the tower of jars and bowls filled with countless different mixtures of medicinal plants and herbs on the opposite side of the bed.

"That 'collection' has saved your life once or twice, Mr. Van Helsing." Both Gabriel and Vlad were surprised to Eldan, the healer, stride into the healing room carrying a bundle of scrolls under the crook of his arm. The young man always carried himself tall and almost regally, then again, he was very tall, six feet five inches in today's measurement. He was fair-faced with a soft smile and had a kindness about him, just an aura of safety that seemed to surround him. He was about the same age as Vlad and Gabriel--around twenty or so, and he was thin and slender-built. Like most of the people of Vaseria. Yet there was something about Eldan that was not like anyone in Vaseria.

"Yes it has," Vlad nudged Gabriel in the ribs lightly before standing up, "You should learn to be more thankful Gabriel."

Gabriel's response was a throw-pillow hurled at Vlad's head.

Eldan gave an exasperated sigh, "I'm surprised you two haven't killed each other yet," muttered the man who had dropped his scrolls on a desk and was now beginning to glance through them. Leaning on his palms over the small desk which was against the same stone wall the door was on. The healer tucked a stray piece of long white hair behind his ear and added. "I swear you two will be the death of each other one day." And with that he stood up and strode gracefully around the foot of Gabriel's bed to the far side of the room where the small tower of jars and bowls of medicines were piled in a seemingly order-less way.

"Gabriel will be the death of many things I'm sure," said Vlad with a smirk on his face, "He must be one of the more high-maintenance wounded man you've have to tend to, Eldan."

Another pillow went sailing into Vlad's head.

"Well he most certainly does mess up the place. What with this pillow-tossing he seemed to have grown fond of." Eldan turned back to Gabriel caring a bowl of watery paste and smirk on his pale face. Pink eyes locked on his Gabriel's. "Now sit up, I need to apply more of this onto your wound."

Using his left arm--his good arm--Gabriel propped himself up against the cherry-wood headboard, with the help of Vlad. Eldan came and sat on the feathered-mattress on Gabriel's right, mixing a grey paste in a small wooden bowl with stir stick.

"Vlad, will you help undo the sling and bandages?" asked the man.

Without word Vlad smiled and obeyed the albino man's request. For indeed, this is what separated Eldan from the rest of the village and its population. Pale skin, smooth white hair that he let grow to his waist and pink eyes in place of dark, aristocratic ones. Eldan's parents had been among the first settlers in Vaseria with Valerious the Elder. When their son had been born albino, he was rarely allowed outside for his skin would burn in the faintest lights. Separated from most childhood activates, Eldan took to reading and soon, became interested in the art of healing. Practising since he was a young boy on farm animals and pets of the village's children, Eldan soon became a very skilled healer at a very young age. When Valerious the Elder learned of the boy's abilities, he immediately asked the boy to work for him at the Manor. Fate must have been on the man's side in some way, because the first man Eldan treated in the Manor, just happened to be Gabriel when Vlad had first found him half dead at the outskirts of the village. Though accepted by the rest of the village on some level, Gabriel and Eldan formed a quick a strong friendship, for they were both outcasts in a sense. And Vladislaus, never one to discriminate, welcomed them both with open arms. They had become a tight-knit friendship, but Vlad had obvious obligations to the village and royal peoples of Romania as the Son of the Dragon and this often meant he would be gone for weeks at a time at some points, in which Gabriel and Eldan found they depended on each other most.

Dropping his bow and quiver onto the wooden floor, Vlad sat down on Gabriel's left. "Give me your arm." Gabriel shifted so that for the most part, he faced Vlad. The young aristocrat took his friend's right arm and began to unravel the feet and feet of clothe bandages. Some were bloodied, but not nearly as bad as it had been.

"They seem much better from when you fell through the ice, Gabriel," said Vlad absently as he unravelled the last of the cloth from Gabriel's forearm, revealing an ugly gash caked hard with blood that ran from the inside of his elbow to midway along his forearm.

Eldan scowled at the wound as he took Gabriel's arm by the wrist and examined it, "It's already healed over. We could leave it, but, it would be best if I gave this antidote once more."

"Oh joy," muttered Gabriel, he had been down this road before.

Eldan stood up and step over to a large bowl of water steaming over a small fire that kindled in the fireplace. Kneeling in front of the small fireplace, Eldan took a grey cloth and soaked in the water, letting it sit for a moment. It always amazed Gabriel how much Eldan could cram into the room given the time. Apart from the small collection of medicinal plants, Eldan also had several books and writing pilled on the small desk he'd dumped the scrolls on earlier. When not tending to the wounded or sick Eldan loved to pour through books and writings and he rarely seemed to keep anything in order, though he was always able to find anything an everything.

"You don't mind if we reopen the wound do you, Gabriel?"

Gabriel, shaken from his thought, nodded, even if he didn't like it. The sooner his arm healed, the sooner he could leave the healing ward and the sooner he could go outside.

Vlad meanwhile had been peering over Gabriel and staring curiously at the small wooden bowl that contained the grey paste Eldan had been mixing a moment ago, "Eldan, what is that stuff it made of anyway?"

"It's an antitoxin made from poppy seeds among other things," said Eldan, picking the warm cloth from the lightly boiling water with two slender fingers and wrung it out. "It relaxes the muscles and numbs them, making healing quicker while killing off infection as well."

"Makes your mind hazy too," groaned Gabriel, and he rubbed his eyes with his left hand, recalling the previous times he'd been given the antitoxin. "I can't remember a thing when you give me that stuff…."

The albino smiled. He stood up and sat back down on the bed next to Gabriel, "That's the poppies, they haze your mind. I put a sleeping draught in it this time so you'll fall asleep, that should make it seem shorter."

Vlad raised an eyebrow, "We then, maybe you will be able to sleep for four days, Gabriel. You sleep well into the day without Eldan's help anyway."

Gabriel jab Vlad in the ribs with his good arm as Eldan took his mangled one the wrist again and braced it across his knee, exposing the caked-over wound. Taking the warm, damp cloth, the albino healer laid it over the gash and rubbed it back and forth along the wound's length. Gabriel winced slightly, but he had been through worse.

"I'm sorry Gabriel," said Eldan, his sensitive touch had felt Gabriel's wince, "I know it must hurt."

Gabriel smiled, "No worries, my friend. It could be far worse." Gabriel suddenly became aware of time, "Vlad, isn't your farther and the hunting party waiting on you."

Vlad's eyes widened and he sprang of the bed and scooped his bow and quiver from their resting place on the floor, "Damn it, Father will kill me." He dashed over to the doorway, "Watch over Gabriel, will you Eldan? Don't let him kill himself while I'm gone." And was gone into the hallways in the direction of the stables.

Eldan chuckled softly as he stopped rubbing Gabriel's wound. Removing the cloth Eldan reviled that the caked blood had been rubbed away, leaving tender pink flesh in its place. The healer turned back to the fire and tossed the blood-flecked cloth into the boiling water. Turning back he scooped up a clump of the poppy-paste on the wooden stick he'd used to mix it and spread it over Gabriel's gash, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"It shouldn't sting, but if it does, just give it a moment and the feeling will fade," said the healer softly.

"It's fine," said Gabriel, not wanting his friend to worry.

"The cut looks a lot better then when you fell."

"Hmm…." said Gabriel

That was how Gabriel came to gain his injuries; on a rare overcast day--much like today--he Vlad and Eldan had been allowed to leave the manor and cross the river into the village to replenish some Eldan's medicinal herbs. As always, Eldan wore long silver robes that covered almost every inch of his pale skin. His long white hair pulled off his face into a three-banded ponytail. The healer's uncommonly long hair needed to be banded throughout its length as to not flare about in winter winds. Vlad, as always when he left the Manor was dressed in simple black clothing, not something one would expect the Son of the Dragon to ware. And Gabriel wore dark clothing of maroon and brown--the traditional colours of the Valerious House--which was broken by one of Eldan's silky white cloaks that hung over his frame.

Snow had blanketed the little, sleepy valley-village, for it was a pale early morning and not even the cart-tracks were treaded by the marketers yet. The three set out from the Manor and came to the river within a few minutes. The normally swift-moving water had frozen over into a thick solid ice track that wound along the bottom of the valley. During the winter, the river was far more easy to cross then make their way over to the small bridge that linked the two lands. Vlad jumped the steep bank first, landing with little more then a thud on the thick ice. Next had been Eldan, who--given with frail form--needed help manoeuvring down the seven-foot back. Being albino, Eldan had always been slender, almost sickly looking at some times and had low stamina so he became tired very easily. It had been the reason he was rarely allowed outside of the Manor so when he was given the opportunity, he took it with utmost eagerness.

They had been through this routine before when they needed to Gabriel hooked his arm under Eldan's from behind and held him to the edge of the bank. Vlad awaited on the icy river reaching up his arms towards them.

Gabriel felt Eldan trembling slightly against him, the albino never liked this; it scared him, "Don't worry," Gabriel whispered, to his friend, "Vlad will catch you."

Instantly, Eldan steadied himself, he hated when people thought less of him because of his appearance. "If he doesn't you'll have to kill him for me."

Gabriel smiled then glanced down at Vlad and nodded quickly. With a gentle toss, Gabriel dropped Eldan. Almost as soon as he did Vlad caught the man around his waist and lowered him to the ice, "There, that wasn't so bad was it?"

Eldan shot Vlad a daggered look but smiled. Just then, Gabriel dropped down beside them, landing far less gracefully then Vald had, nearly slipping on the icy but caught himself be catching onto the sheer wall of the riverbank. Both Vlad and Eldan tried to conceal a laugh as their friend stumbled on the edge of the river. Picking himself up Gabriel rolled his eyes and turned his gaze over the river, "So how do we get across the river, Vlad?" he asked, clinging to frozen, hard dirt of the bank to keep from falling again.

_Vlad turned to face the opposite riverbank_, _"See there," said the aristocrat, pointing at a zigzagging path marked with black stones that led from one side of the river to the other. "The hunting party marked the best path for crossing this winter just two days ago. Just stay in-between the black stone markers and you'll be fine."_

_Eldan squinted and shielded his pink, light-sensitive eyes as he struggled to see the black markers, "It's so bright, the snow makes everything so much brighter," he turned away, "I can't look across the river."_

Gabriel smiled and wrapped an arm should his friend's slender shoulders, whispering kindly, "Don't worry, you'll be fine, the path seems rather wide, I don't think you could go astray even if you wanted to."

Instantly, Eldan stiffened and turned away, though he visibly winced as he turned back to face the river. He did not want Gabriel's pity. "I'll be fine." the healer pushed a few strands of white hair that had come loose out of his face and pulled the hood of his silver robe over his head, keeping the light off his eyes for the most part.

"Well then we best be moving on," said Vlad and he took the first step out away from the bank. The ice moaned under the pointed weight and the cracking sound that resemble creaking timbers of ice settling into place made all of them cringe. But after a moment the sound of the ice settled and Vlad strode out into the centre of the river with his usual cocky boldness. When he came to what he judged to be the centre of the wide river, Vlad turned on the heel of his boot and shouted back, "See, the ice is thickest along the path," he stomped his foot on the ice beneath him, "You could ride a horse cart over this ice. Nothing to be worried about."

Gabriel smiled and whispered, "See," to Eldan before he to ventured out over the river, a little more wearily then Vlad had but was sure the path was thick enough to support all of them.

Not wanted the others to worry Eldan quickly followed, shielding his super-sensitive eyes. Looking up occasionally to make sure he was in-between the markers, but it was still hard to tell. In fact, Eldan had _strayed from the marked path and unbeknown to him, had ventured to one of the thinner parts of the river. Ice creaked behind the albino and he froze, squinting against the harsh glare of the white snow and ice._

The cracking sound caused Gabriel and Vlad to turn back. To their horror, they saw Eldan frozen far from the marked path.

"Eldan!" called Gabriel as he and Vlad raced back along the ice.

"Gabriel?" answered the healer, who was as good as stranded blind on the river.

"Eldan, come back towards us," called Vlad. "Follow are voices back here."

Eldan did just that. He turned around so that he faced Vlad and Gabriel. He could see them if he squinted and shielded his eyes, but the reflective glare of the ice and snow was hard on his eyes and made the back of his eyes burn. The young healer had only moved two or three paces when the thin ice beneath him cracked and his footstep was met with cold water instead of ice. Eldan instantly recoiled, frightened to continue.

"Don't move, Eldan," called Vlad. It was clear one of them would have to go out and help him back, but the thin ice was very dangerous, and both of them out-weighed Eldan by at least thirty pounds, making it more likely they would break the ice if they tried to go out to their friend.

"I'll go," said Gabriel. Vlad didn't protest, even though he wanted to. Despite his nimble, catlike abilities, he new Gabriel was lighter then him and he had a better chance of reaching Eldan.

"Be careful," said Vlad.

"Hang on, Eldan, I'm coming out."

For the most part, the ice held Gabriel, but as he edged closer to Eldan, a spider web of blue cracks wound themselves through the ice, the combined weight of Gabriel and Eldan stressing the limits of the ice. Gabriel extended his hand to his friend, "Eldan, can you see me? Take my hand, I'm right in front of you."

But Gabriel could not see the thin, almost unnoticeable line that snaked between them. Eldan stepped back, "No Gabriel, don't."

"Eldan, come quick before the ice breaks and pulls you in," Gabriel's voice was urgent.

"Not this way…."

"Eldan--"

Snap. Thin, brittle ice caved into the river, swallowing up Gabriel in one large rush of icy water. Eldan fell to his knees at the edge of the edge of the hole, completely unaware of the splits in the ice, creeping around him. Suddenly invincible to the sun, Eldan plunged his arms into the water, hoping to snag his friend before he was swept away. A mere second had gone by and the milky sky pierced the healers eyes, causing him to cry, but he did not lift his arms from the water. He was vaguely aware of Vlad who'd dashed by his side when he say Gabriel fall. With the sun attacking him from the sky and stabbing cold along his slender arms, the healer felt all strength leave him. If possible, his white skin went paler. But then, Eldan felt something grab his arms, clinging to him desperately.

"I've got him!"

Vlad plunged his arms down into the water and hooked them onto Gabriel, and with a strong heave, pulled his friend from the icy prison. Gabriel gasped as air surged into his lungs. Animal instinct kicked in and Gabriel clawed onto Vlad's cloak desperately, struggling to breathe. The aristocrat took his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around Gabriel tight as tight as he could. The freezing water dripped off Gabriel's shivering body. Only then did the healer notice that Gabriel's right arm was bent at an impossible angle.

"Your arm, it's broken," breathed Eldan.

Gabriel drew a shuddering breath, the cold was driving into him from everywhere, it was almost unbearable.

"We need to get him back to the Manor, to the healing ward," whispered Vlad. A loud snap caught their attention. "Eldan, follow me, don't loose me."

The normally carefree young man was sudden filled with fear for Gabriel and he scooped up his friend in his arms and nimbly stepped back to the marked path, Eldan, despite the painful sun, following him, water dripping from his silver robes.

"Are you alright Gabriel?"

Eldan's soft voice snapped Gabriel out of thought. He hadn't even noticed the healer had re-bandaged his broken arm.

"Yes," answered Gabriel, settling back down into the warmth of his bed. The sleeping draught was kicking-in, "just thinking."

Eldan smiled, his fair face glowing with the heart-felt gesture. The healer bent over Gabriel and wrapped a slender arm around Gabriel's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Sleep Gabriel, I'll be back by sundown, I'll bring you something to eat." whispered Eldan to his friend.

Gabriel simply sighed and muttered, "Okay," and pulled the duvet up around his neck. Within seconds, he was asleep.

.:I:.

The Darkness didn't come. Nothing came after that. Nothing for what seemed to be eternity. But then, the faintest sensation of movement came over him. A sound, calling him. Someone was calling, and he could hear them….

* * *

Ragweed: OH! Cliffie! I cliffed you! Haha! Okay, um for those of you who are wondering (which I'm sure your not, you can skip this and review) Eldan is based on a friend of mine. thinks Damn I got weird friends…anyway a friend of mine--Daniel--is albino and I told him I'd put him in the story and I was going to put Eldan in anyway, so I made him albino. Now he has to read this. HAHA! This is my evil way of recruiting new readers for my stories.  
Carl: Well, you only have like two people reading this anyway….  
Ragweed: smacks head thank you for that Carl. Well, REVIEW DAMMIT! Um, next chapter's in a week or so… 


	10. Let the Darkness Slip Away

Ragweed: So…here we are again, time for more chapters.  
Gabriel/Dracula/Carl: (run and hide)  
Ragweed: Damn muses, oh well, they'll be back, I've got the food. Damn, I got this chapter up quick…in wait, three, four days? That's a new record for me. And it's a looong one. 'Round 6000 words I think, all the others are only around 5000. Yeah me! Ah, reviews. Verona: Glad so much you like the flashbacks, they're the most fun to write. There are more flashbacks in this chapter, so enjoy them! MSJ, yay! I have a new reader! Thank you so much for the reviews! The more motivation the better. Um, I've got nothing else special to say so continue reading…

* * *

Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory

Chapter 9: Let the Darkness Slip Away

'For had it been this way, the story would be much shorter,'--_Fire Bringer, _David Clement-Davis

'Defence is paper-thin,  
One touch and I begin to,  
Melt within and,  
Ever swim, against the current,  
So let me slip away,'--_Vindicated, _Dashboard Confessional

.:I:.

A throbbing burn ripped through Gabriel's mind as a lightning bolt of pain coursed around his body, make him gasp. He opened his mouth to scream but instead felt sweet fresh air swell into his empty lungs, and his body reacted instantly to the new air pouring into his body. Adrenalin was released into his veins, rushing through is body and Gabriel closed his hands around the snowy ground beneath him in a desperate attempt to cling to some form of life. Eyes snapped open, unseeing, met only by swirling, grey, unrecognizable shapes.

"Van Helsing?!"

Gabriel bolted upright, blood rushing through his veins, his heart hammering in his chest. Gabriel blinked a few times as the world around him came back into focus. It was night and a cloudy, starless night veiled the world in indigo darkness. A fire flared up in the snow that covered the ground. Snow. The ground was covered in it. He looked around; he seemed to be outside somewhere, a wilderness of some type. Not far off, two horses slept upright, their reins tied to a wooden stake driven into the ground. Gabriel shook his head again as he struggled to take in everything at once.

"Van Helsing?" croaked a soft voice.

Gabriel turned his head again, eyes still readjusting to sight. Over on his left, a small figure crouched, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. There was silence for a moment, and it grew thick and heavy in the air as silence does when left untouched for too long. The small form crouched ahead of Gabriel didn't move, as if too shocked to even think for the time being. The Hunter tried to focus on who or what was in front of him. It seemed, somehow, familiar. Silence stretched out longer as Gabriel search the very edges of his mind to try and find something he'd buried in the Darkness long ago and now he needed to find it. He needed something, something to hold on to, something to keep him from succumbing to the Darkness again, something that who remind him….

A bolt of realization tore through him and Gabriel's whole body tensed. Memories all flooded back to him at once as if they'd never left him. He blinked, not trusting his eyes. Finally, Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but the figure in front of him spoke first.

"Van Helsing?"

"Carl?" Gabriel finally got the words unstuck in his throat.

"Van Helsing! Oh, Heaven be blessed, you're alive!" The little friar sprang to his feet and rush to Gabriel's side, kneeing beside him in the snow, throwing his arms around Gabriel's shoulders, squeeze all air from his lungs in a joyful embrace.

"Van Helsing, I can't believe your alive! I thought you were dead!"

"_Carl!"_

The little friar instantly released Gabriel from his tight grip, "Sorry. I can't just believe you're alive. You died, I saw you! I mean, I thought, but…I didn't, I mean, you went so cold and still and you stopped breathing. And then suddenly, you just snapped awake."

"Carl," said Gabriel as calmly as he could putting a finger to his lips to silence his frantic friend. The friar nodded, a small smile upon his face. Carl was surprised to find tears of sheer joy building on the edges of his eyes and he wiped them quickly away with the edges of his robes. Far too amazed at everything to structure a complete thought.

Exhaling deeply, Gabriel leaned back on his palms, running one had through his hair, "How did you find me?"

Carl dropped his eyes almost in shame, "I followed you up the side of the Carpathian's. I found you knock senseless here."

The Hunter dropped his eyes to the snow and nodded. In reality, he was not surprised Carl had followed him. He should be, it had been Carl who'd found him and more then likely saved his life. After a brief moment of silence, Gabriel looked back up at his friend, "I guess we should get some sleep. It must be well into the night. Many hours to morning. We'll figure out what to do from there."

Carl snorted and rubbed a hand through his messy red hair, "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight.

"Well then lie and stare at the stars," laughed Gabriel, already spreading a cotton blanket out for himself, "Maybe you can count them all."

Instantly the little friar's face became his all-too-familiar cheeky smile, "I assure you I can. I did in fact once on our first trip over these mountains?"

Gabriel's features twisted into a disbelieving and humorous smirk as he settled down near the dying fire, "Oh, yeah? And how many were there?"

The little friar thought for a moment then said simply, "I don't remember."

"Of course," said Gabriel shaking his head. What had he expected? Such an answer was befitting of Carl and only Carl.

Gabriel remembered little after that, he became consumed in thought. There seemed to be something else, something he was supposed to remember. Had he had a dream? He seemed to remember something, on the edges of his memory, some nagging long lost thought refused to die. He could remember a young man, two. One was taller then the other and more slender, very frail looking. His skin was pale, almost sickly and he had long, straight, white hair that fell past his waist. The young man wore long silver robes and seemed to be very quite and reserved, not fearless or rowdy. There was another man, this one seemed to come through stronger, more clearly. He had long black hair pulled behind his face, his skin was fair and he wore black from head to toe. But there was something more about this man.

His eyes. His eyes were swimming deep green, flaring with a smirk along his lips. Giving him a very cocky yet friendly look. These two, who were they? Why didn't he recognize them? Was he supposed to? Question circled in Gabriel mind, refusing to leave him peace until finally, he gladly, fell into sleep.

.:I:.

Gabriel woke later that evening, actually it was more like well into the night. The moon and stars were shinning outside, though they were impossible to see for someone had drawn the heavy claret drapes in front of the large window at the other end of the crowded room. Gabriel blinked as the healing ward came into focus in his misty vision. The small, healing room was awash in warm orange light of fire; a warm fire crackled and burned in the small hearth next to his bed as well as several thick, dripping wax candles on Eldan's small desk. The soft flickering fire gave the room a very, warm, cozy feel to it and Gabriel smiled to himself, sitting up and stretched his arms, letting the numbing grip of slumber slip away from his refreshed body. The young man did a double-take when he realized his broken arm was no longer sore and the sling had been removed from around his neck as well so that now his forearm was simply bound tightly in white cloth. The dark-haired man smiled again, Eldan must've undone the sling while he was sleeping.

Letting out a long breath, Gabriel leaned back against the headboard of the bed and rubbed a hand over his face, groggy from whatever Eldan had put in the antitoxic he'd taken. Well now I'm going to be up all night, _thought Gabriel, laughing softly. The man shook his head and tried to clear his mind, which for the most part was still asleep with bleary mist. It was always hard to waken from one of Eldan's drug-induced slumbers, for they always put him so deeply in sleep, Gabriel always felt as if he'd been asleep for months, a feeling he did not entirely dislike. Arching his back against the headboard to try and wake his muscles, Gabriel heard someone creak open the wooden door on his left. Eldan poked his white-haired head into the healing ward._

"Glad to see you're awake," said the healer with a smile.

Gabriel shook his head and rubbed his eyes again, "Glad to be awake. Whatever you put in that stuff knocked me out good. What time is it?"

"Well past midnight. I came to check on you at sundown but you were still dead asleep. That sleeping draught really did put you under," answered his friend as he strode into the small, candlelit room, carrying a wooden tray of food in his slender hands. The healer's long white hair shone in the dim candle light, creating a soft golden haze about the young man. Eldan sat next Gabriel on the bed and placed the tray of roasted boar meant and boiled, chopped vegetables in his friend's lap, "Here, eat. It will do you good. You haven't eaten in days."

Seeing the steaming plate of food placed in front of him suddenly made Gabriel realize how hungry he was. It had, indeed, been nearly three days since he had eaten anything other then Eldan's healing drinks he mixed up and his stomach ached for something to eat. The young man inhaled deeply; it smelt wonderful. Ripe meat and fresh onions and turnips. Much more appetizing then the earthy musk that filled the healing ward. Gabriel sat up and took the fork in his hand, spearing a chunk rather juicy looking boar meat and swallowed it in one mouthful, not bothering to take time to taste it; never mind chew.

Eldan smirked softly, his pinks eyes glowing his trademark appearance of warmth and kindness, "You look more hungry then Vlad's bloodhounds on fox hunts."

Gabriel felt a warm smile creep across his face. He swallowed another chunk of boar meat, "Well lets starve you_ for the better part of a week and see how you look with a plate of steaming food in front of you." He glanced up at Eldan to see the same soft grin mirrored in his friend. But Gabriel's light-hearted features quickly contorted into a confused frown as he saw something on Eldan he hadn't noticed before in the dim candlelight. A tender, purple-red bruise bloomed under the healer's pale, transparent skin along his left jawbone. Surrounding the fresh-looking wound, a small amount of dry blood flecked Eldan's otherwise smooth, beautiful, pale skin. The bruise looked fresh, a small amount of wet blood shone in the candlelit as Eldan moved his head slightly to one side._

Suddenly realizing what Gabriel was staring at, the healer's hand instantly shot to behind his ear and he let his long white hair fall along the side of his face, covering the ugly discoloration along his jaw, "I walked into the doorframe of the kitchen when I was getting you something to eat," Eldan explained quickly, letting his eyes fall to the white sheets of the mattress. "You know how clumsy I am." The healer's smile was gone from his face and he folded his hands into the wide sleeves of his silver robes. Instantly the healer's spirits seemed damped, although he tried to hide it.

"Eldan…" Gabriel's tone was filled his sorrow for his friend.

The young healer shook his head and offered a weak smile, "Don't worry. It's nothing. It doesn't even hurt."

Gabriel was obviously unconvinced, "Let me see." He sat up, the tray of food still on his lap. Eldan tried to protest, but a firm, yet kind glance from Gabriel and the young albino healer nodded sadly. Gabriel placed his fork down on the wooden tray and raised a hand to the side of the healer's face, tucking his friend's long white hair back behind his ear, allowing him examine the bruise better. Placing two fingers under Eldan's chin, Gabriel tilted his friend's head sideways, trying to be as gentle as he could for he new how easily Eldan's skin to break. Gabriel traced a fingertip along the mark and Eldan flinched slightly underneath his friend's touch.

"It's probably not as bad as it looks, I haven't gotten a chance to clean it or even look at it yet," said Eldan, trying desperately to convince Gabriel he was fine. Yet it was obvious that his friend was not persuaded by Eldan's attempts.

"Is there something you can put on it?" asked Gabriel still intently examining his friend's marred jawbone. "Something that will help it heal faster?"

Eldan sighed, "I'd have to take a look at it first, but most likely, I'll just have to let it heal."

It wasn't the first time this had happened. In fact it was almost a regular occurrence to the younger healer. Ever since Eldan had come to work at the Manor four years ago, the residents of the Manor and even those who worked in the Manor had treated him poorly. The colour of his skin and slim, sickly appearance made the people very cruel towards the young healer, looking down upon him and didn't hesitate to strike him if he ever stepped out of line. Eldan's fair skin and thin flesh bled and bruised very easily so even a blow that wouldn't make others flinch could send the frail man sprawling. But the young albino healer had become very good and at avoiding such beatings by acting very reserved and quiet in front of anyone except--of course--for Vlad and Gabriel. Though even this wasn't enough to avoid a swift backhand across the face sometimes.

But there was nothing that would protect those people from Vlad when he and Gabriel would find Eldan with a newly-acquired bruise on his face or arms. Then the true fierce loyalty Vlad had to his friends would rise to the surface in an unbridled flame of fury. He would often threaten those who'd struck Eldan, sometimes more then necessary. Gabriel wished he could've done the same, but the people of the Manor would sooner listen to the children of the village then they would a wandering Christian outsider that had shown up half dead at the boarders of their village one night with no memory of where he was from or his past. In fact the only reason Gabriel didn't get struck like Eldan did, was because Gabriel would hit back. He was for more broadly-built then Eldan, and it his stern stare and hard brown eyes intimidated the people in the Manor to leave him alone for the most part, but it didn't protect him from passed whispers and harsh glares.

"What happened?" asked Gabriel releasing Eldan from his gently grip and dropping his hand back to the wooden tray. After he'd done so, and Eldan cast his gaze downward, tried to catch his friend's pink eyed gaze but the healer refused to look at him. Eldan simply stared at the sheets and toyed with he edges of his silver robes, not liking how weak all this was making him seem. He was silent for a moment, trying to think of the best way to word the story and after a swift moment of silence relayed to Gabriel what had happened.

"I was in the kitchen waiting for Nicolé to get you something to eat and I knocked over a drying rack of clay plates." muttered Eldan, his soft voice not nearly above a whisper though he tried to word it as if it were nothing. "It was no big deal. Nicolé had every right to bad angry, I should have noticed it. It was my mistake. I just am no good to any of them here. It doesn't matter. It's over now."

"Oh Eldan, don't say that. You know that's untrue."

The young healer clamped his jaw in an attempt to fight back tears, but it simply made his jawbone throb more. He hated himself for being so weak, but desperately tried to hide it in his words, "Not entirely. Many more healers have come to work at the Manor since I've been here and I really have no other purpose here other than as a healer. Maybe, I should leave. Perhaps it would do everyone here some good. Even me."

Gabriel couldn't believe his friend was serious. He knew Eldan had a hard time with the people in the Manor, but had never known how much the young healer detested himself for it, "And what would I tell Vlad when he comes back? I would be left to explain your absence. I've explained away many things for you but even I can't explain away your complete disappearance." He couldn't tell in the flickering, dim candlelight, but Gabriel could've sworn he could see tears building on the edge of the young albino healer's eyes.

"I'm sure he'd know why I left," Eldan seemed to be tossing the idea of leaving around in his head, testing the sharpness of its edges. "I'm sure he'd understand."

"This is Vlad," said Gabriel with a light laugh, "He doesn't understand himself."

Eldan smiled through tearing eyes but said nothing.

Seeing no change in the healer's eyes Gabriel clasped his friend's hand in his own, giving it a tight squeeze. Eldan reluctantly looked up at his friend's eyes, his own pink ones on the verge of tears he wish he could be strong enough to hold back, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you and Vlad," said Gabriel softly. "I was half-dead when Vlad found me and you brought me back. You've done me good, my friend. You and Vlad saved my life." He was silent for moment, "So don't leave. If for no other reason, don't leave so that Vlad doesn't kill me when he returns. I could just imagine what that scenario would turn out to be."

_The young healer smiled sorrowfully and more tears spilt from his eyes. Eldan, not wanting Gabriel see him as the frail, defenceless, mistake he was, instantly took the edge of his silver robes and wiped the crystal droplets from his cheek. He hated it when others took pity on him just because he was so weak. He hated when other treated him differently because he could not work as well of the other servants in the Manor did. He hated it when he was not able to defend and protect his friends as they so often did for him. He didn't deserve such good friend as Gabriel and Vlad, for they would always protect and defend him, and yet their was never anything they could do in their times of need, and he hated himself for it, "Eat." the healer whispered, nodding at the tray of food in Gabriel's lap. It was beginning to cool and the healer very much wanted Gabriel to have some strength._

"So is that a yes then?" asked Gabriel taking up his fork again, a cocky smile smeared on his face. "You'll stay?"

If it is the one thing I can do for the both of you, _thought the healer to himself as he stood up, straightening his silky, silver robes, "Yes," he said wiping more tears from his eyes. Strangely, he found himself smiling, "I'll stay. Even I couldn't leave you to the wrath of Vlad. My conscious as a healer wouldn't let me." His smile grew wider and Gabriel rolled his eyes._

"Eat," Eldan repeated, sitting down at his desk, "it'll make you feel better. You'd probably be well enough to leave the ward in a day or two." The healer began to look through some the pilled books and writings that had lain stacked on his desk in not particular order, his fine features resuming their calm, kind appearance. Opening one of the drawers, Eldan pulled a scrolled of blank of parchment and laid across an area not occupied with stacked book or dripping lit candles. Taking a quail-feather pen from a small ink pot that was placed atop a random stack of old dusty books, Eldan began to write in long, elegant, looping words in Romania, often glancing back at several references he had opened on various unused areas of the small writing table.

Silence settled in the healing ward as Gabriel finished off the meat and vegetables and Eldan continued to write on the stained parchment. Time passed and Gabriel must have fallen asleep because the next thing he remembered, he woke to see Eldan gone and the tray of food missing as well. Gabriel wasn't as groggy as he had been earlier and found waking up much easier. Even though the heavy claret drapes were still drawn in front of the window, Gabriel could tell it was still night time, but he did not know how long he'd slept.

Feeling much of his energy restored, Gabriel threw of the heavy duvet off of himself and swung his legs off the edge of the bed sitting there for a moment. Wrapping an arm around his neck the young man massaged his shoulder through the thin, white, linen sleeping gown he wore; his muscles were sore from two weeks of lying in bed and his body readjusted to normal movement. After a moment, Gabriel stood, the cold wooden floor moaning underneath his feet as he did so. Candlelight dancing around the dim room Gabriel paused and looked around for a moment, as if something was not quite right with the air around him, something was out of place. Whatever it was caused him to visible shiver and the hair on the nape of his neck stand. But almost as soon as it had come, the odd feeling passed and Gabriel's body automatically relaxed.

Shrugging off the unusual felling, Gabriel turned his attention to Eldan's small, crowded desk where he'd been writing earlier. Several candles still burned on all corners of the desk, some atop piled books and papers crammed on top of each other. But what caught the young man's eye was what Eldan had been writing earlier. Brushing some parchments out of the way, Gabriel sat down at the writing-table awash in flickering candlelit. He had only just begun to learn to read Romanian, even though he could speak it very fluently, and Eldan's smooth, connected, elegant handwriting did not make it any easier by causing it difficult to determine were one letter ended and another began. All he could make out of the long passage of looping, ink, words was, 'upon the coming of a full moon…tears off…revealing a wolfish hybrid…shows animal-like behaviour…no memory…. Is believed to become infected…bitten…deathly allergic to silver.'

Gabriel frowned in confusion. What was this? It sounded like some form of terrible creature. One he had certainly never heard of. Resembling a wolf? Confused, Gabriel glance at one of the opened books beside the parchment. On one page was a block of printed Romanian words of which he could only make out a few, on the other, was a full-page picture of a painting depicting a scene of a winter forest at night, the only light emanating from a full moon in a cloudless night sky. A figure was frozen in the moment, weaving in-between the majestic, snow-laden birch trees. It was the figure of a massive, shaggy grey wolf, eyes as yellow as goldenrod and fangs as white as the moon. Underneath the picture a small caption read, 'Large grey wolves were said to have often been spotted near the locations where the victims were found.'

"Up again?"

All in an instant, the young, dark-haired man jumped straight up, knocking the chair down behind him, heart suddenly pounding so hard he could hear it. To find it was only Eldan again came as a wave of relief and sighed, a smile forming on his face.

"Don't do that!" he half laughed, half sighed, "You scared me."

"No kidding," answered Eldan, moving around Gabriel, picking up the chair he knocked over. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Gabriel shrugged, "I felt better so I thought I should move around a bit."

Eldan tucked the chair back underneath the desk and straightened some of the parchments into a pile.

"Why aren't you _asleep?" asked Gabriel, "You must be tired."_

Noticing some of the candles had flickered out, Eldan walked around the foot of the bed to the small hearth near his jars of herbs. He dipped the tip of a candle in the glowing fire and walked back around over to Gabriel, shielding the little flame with his hand as he did so, "I couldn't too much going on. And I don't like even more now that Vlad's gone." The albino healer touched tip the burning candle in his hand to the wick of one that had died, relighting it.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you haven't felt it, Gabriel."

Gabriel thought for a moment, remembering the feeling that had come over him when he'd first gotten out of bed, "Yes, I have felt something uneasy lately. But I don't know what it is. It could just be the winter."

"That's what I keep telling myself, but there's something inside me telling me that it's more," whispered Eldan, placing the candle down on the desk.

There was a moment of silence that passed between the two and Eldan tucked his long white hair behind his ear, revealing the ugly bruise that bloomed underneath his skin. The healer folded his hands into the wide sleeves of his robes as he so often did and sighed, as if trying to force some unwanted thought from his mind. His face looked tired, not physically, but tired of _something. Something he wanted to go away. But Gabriel shook the thought away suddenly remembered what he'd read, "Eldan, what were you writing earlier?"_

The young healer looked over his shoulder at Gabriel with a raised eyebrow. Gabriel rolled his eyes, "Yes, I looked, but I couldn't read half of it. Something about a giant wolf? And a full moon? What was all of that?"

Eldan leaned on his palms over the desk, his white hair spilling over it's surface. He gently re-read what he had written down earlier, "When those Messengers from Rome came a few weeks ago, I heard them speaking encountering a massive dog-like creature on the mountains when they had first come. They said it snuck up on them when they were camped for one night and killed one of their horses. They fled of the remaining animals but the creature gave chase. One of the them tossed was able to toss a silver throwing dagger at the creature, hitting it in the shoulder. All it took was one hit and this massive dog went down. They didn't risk going back to find the corpse, but they never encountered such a thing again."

"How did you hear all that?!" Gabriel asked, amazed his friend would've been allowed in the same room as such important visitors as the Romans.

But simply Eldan tilted his head back, eyebrows raised and sly smirk on his lips and his arms folded in his sleeves in front of him, "I am ghost-like in more ways then just my appearance, Gabriel."

Gabriel laughed and Eldan continued.

"Anyway, I had heard tales of such creatures when I was young and still living in the village. But I had always thought they were simple fairytales told to children at night during thunderstorms. That fact that someone had actually seen and been attacked by one of these creatures; it sparked my interest." Gabriel snorted, that could lead to many thing, "I went into the Archives and found every writing I could on it. What I found, is that throughout history, their have been cases where someone will disappear, sometime straight from their beds. Giant wolf print were found sometimes. But then, later, during the next full moon, sometimes a giant, wolf-human hybrid-like creature will emerge and basically attack anything that moves. They are gone by morning and are never seen again."

"That's quite the story," Gabriel raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what to make of this. "So you think one of these thing attacked the Romans?"

"I think one did, but…" his voice trailed off and then suddenly an idea hit him. "Gabriel! What was the name of that merchant in the village who went missing about a month ago?!"

Gabriel thought for a moment, "Um, Sulaam was his first name…"

"And that was a week before the Romans came?"

"Yeah…"

"And what day in the Lunar Cycle was that?"

"I don't know, Eldan!? What are you talking about, you sound like you're going mad!"

The healer was silent for a moment, "It would've been a week into it, on the first-quarter phase," he muttered to himself. His pink eyes lightened and turned to Gabriel, seizing his friend's shoulder in a surprisingly firm grip. He leaned down and looked Gabriel right in the eye, "That means that it would've been about a full moon when just before the Romans arrived right?!"

"Eldan what are you--"

"Right!?"

"Yes, but what has this got to do with anything. You sound crazy."

The healer's eyes were filled with fire and he sank down onto the bed, panting, his heart beating with thrill, "Great Goddess," he whispered in delight, "we either have the biggest coincidence in all of history on our hands, our everything they say is true."

Frustrated and confused, Gabriel sat down next Eldan and--as lightly as he could--tapped the healer on his bruised jawbone. Eldan snapped his head on Gabriel, rubbing his bruise softly, "What was that for?"

"Will you tell me what this is all about?!" Gabriel pleaded, feeling very confused.

The younger took a minute to calm himself them, in his soft voice said, "I'll explain everything tomorrow. For now, we both need to sleep. But we shouldn't do anything until Vlad returns. Damn it, he couldn't have picked a worse time to leave. But we'll wait for now. I'm going to sleep, you should do the same, the sun rises in six hours." Eldan rose gracefully to his feet and leaned over the desk, blowing out each of the candles save one he took in his hand. He went around to the small hearth and tipped the small bowl of boiling water above the fire over, steaming out the flame. Suddenly, the only light in the room was the flickering candle Eldan was holding in his hands.

"Sleep," he repeated to his friend as the healer made he way 'round to the door. "I need to see you in the morn." And with no more, Eldan disappeared down the hall, closing the door behind him leaving Gabriel in total blackness.

Gabriel sat for a moment, not sure what had just happened. There were the rare times when Eldan would completely forget his burden-role of weak servant the true, vibrant, limitless Eldan would appear. And when he did, Gabriel was often left in the wreckage of the whirlwind, not having a clue to what was going on.

Well he wasn't going to waste any more energy on it tonight. Feeling his was to the head of the bed, Gabriel climbed in, the warm duvet much more welcoming then the unheated rooms of the Manor and he laid his head down. He lay awake for a while, not sure what to make of all that Eldan had told him, but soon, sleep reached up long fingers and pulled him down into a deep, dreamless slumber.

.:I:.

Gabriel woke to the sound of Carl scuttling around the camp. The little friar was always up at seemingly ungodly early hours. Sometime Gabriel questioned if he slept at all. After a moment of pretending to sleep, Gabriel opened his eyes and sat up, stretching him arms out.

"Good morning, Van Helsing," Carl said in a rather chipper voice given the very cold temperature of the air. "Lovely day is it not?"

"Damn you and your un-damp-able spirits, Carl," murmured Gabriel. "I'm tired."

"Aren't we all," Carl said as he finished tacking one of the horses. Gabriel noticed that everything was packed and strapped to the two horse. Breakfast was also cooking over a fire, a strip or two of deer meat and mixed nuts and berries. Gabriel shook his head as he pulled himself up and stretched again. Wherever the little friar found all this energy God only knows. Gabriel took his trench coat and slipped it on, hoping to block out some of the cold. He could see his breath on the air as Carl came up to him offering him a strip of deer meant.

"Here eat," said the friar, "We should be going off soon." Carl turned back and began to pack the last of the blankets back into sacks.

"Going?"

Carl turned back to look at Gabriel over his shoulder, "Yeah, going home."

Gabriel dropped his gaze to the snow and shook his head, "I'm still going Carl."

The little friar had expected this, but he wasn't about to let Gabriel ride off to his death. The little friar turned back on his friend, "Are you mad? You're chasing nothing, you'll die out here. There's nothing out there"

"I'm still going."

"And what will I tell the Cardinal?" asked the little friar, folding his arms.

"The truth," Gabriel shrugged.

Carl let out an agitated sigh; he hated logic.

"I've been having dreams," said Gabriel, his voice lower now.

Carl raised his eyebrows, "About what? More nightmares?"

Gabriel shook his head, "It's different. I have dreams, but then I can't remember them. But, I know they happened. Like, I can tell they occurred, but don't remember what they were about. In fact, they don't really seem like dreams, they seem more like…memories." Gabriel sighed and looked out over the small cypress grove. "But then I wake up, and I only have vague recollections of them. Like I remembered they happened, but I don't remember what happen."

Carl frowned, "How long has that been going on for?"

Gabriel shrugged again, "Since I left." he suddenly realized, "How long have we been out here? What's the date?"

"It is January the 17th, 1889," recited Carl, it was a question he was asked often. "But back to the these dreams, you say they are like memories? Are you sure?"

"I don't know," Gabriel shook his head, a little at a loss, "but they feel real. Like I've lived them before. Different then dreams."

Carl nodded thoughtfully and was silent for a moment, "They could be memories," he said after a moment.

The Hunter felt his heart leap at the words. He hadn't expected it, but he felt a huge wave of rekindled hope sweep over him. But even knowing that these dreams could be his memories returned to him made his heart beat faster and his spine tingle.

"I'm going, Carl."

The little friar was about to protest but a stern gaze from Gabriel told him their was no stopping him. Van Helsing was stubborn that way, once he made up his mind, you could not change it.

"Then I'm coming with you," said Carl firmly and he folded his arms across his chest.

"You? To Transylvania?" Gabriel chuckled.

"I've done it once and I'll do it again. If it is that important then I suppose it's worth some of my time here on Earth," the friar rolled his eyes and sighed for effect.

Gabriel smiled, "You remind me so much of Eldan."

"Who?"

Gabriel froze. _Eldan? _Who was that? It sounded familiar…like he had heard it long ago and never bothered to remember it. Where had he heard that name before? It was so familiar and yet, he couldn't place it within his mind. "No one," he answered finally, not really paying much attention anymore, "just someone I thought I knew."

* * *

Whew that was a long one, 6145 words exactly! Ow my wrists hurt.  
Ahh! I feel so terrible for writing the flashback cause I'm torturing a person with a genetic defect. I feel so evil. I'm sorry Eldan!  
Also, BIG foreshowing [that's my new word for the day =)] in the flashback as well. Well, we check in with Dracula in the next chapt' and hopefully get a few questions answered. Until then…. 


	11. All For the End

Ragweed: BEHOLD! I've returned! I am SO SORRY! Okay, everyone who has been reading this story…I went off to boarding school on the 8th of September. Not boot camp-like boarding school, an actual school, school. I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in so long. It's been nearly half a year! From know one, I will be able to keep updating the story, but it I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. Thank you everyone for you patience!

But, reviews first. Freak Goddess of the Crypt: Whoa! That's actually quite close to what I was planning. And don't worry, no ideas go un-wasted, inspiration is wonderful! Verona: You flatter me too much, but I like it anyway so keep it up…please? And um…I just noticed that…Eldan…Elladan. (rams head into wall) Dammit! I didn't even realize that until right now. Stupid me. Oh and MSJ, Elladan and Elrohir were Elrond's twin sons, Arwen's brothers and Aragorn's foster brothers since Aragorn was 'raised in the house of Elrond' I think that's the exact quote from the book. Yeah, something like that. But enough Lord of the Rings, on to the chapter….

* * *

**Crimson-Stained Shards of Memory**

**Chapter 10: All For the End**

'Sometimes I remember  
The darkness of my past,  
Bringing back these memories,  
I wish I didn't have,  
Sometimes I think of letting go,  
And never looking back,  
And never moving forward so,  
There would never be a past,"--_Easier to Run Linkin Park_

.:I:.

Consciousness returned slowly to Dracula and it took awhile for the vampire to awaken entirely. For a while, it seemed as though his mind was completely separated from his body, floating along the air on a breeze like a wisp of mist. After a while, some form of tangible sense came back to the vampire. Even though Dracula didn't require air to live, the vampire inhaled deeply as the sleepy veil slipped of his motionless body. Allowing his cold blood a moment to begin to churn in his veins, Dracula slowly opened his eyes to survey his surroundings. It was, at once, obvious he had been moved for his could feel a stone wall against this back, keeping him sitting up. He was sitting in a dark hallway, sunlight flooded in from other halls sprouting from the main one, but none of the light had crept close enough to bother him. As his heat-seeking eyes soon became adjusted to the darkness once more, Dracula soon realized that the two Royal Wolves, Réhabah and Jahul, that had come into the old castle the night before were no where to be seen or heard. But there was a sizable amount of wolf-hair and lingering body-heat on the on the surrounding floor suggested they had been here not a few moments before.

Letting out a deep breath Dracula pondered on what he was to do next. The voice that had been visiting him rather frequently now had told him to simply remain in the fortress until Gabriel arrived. And that, to him, made little sense. But something buried deep within in his mind told him it would be easier to simple succumb to the commands of the voice. It was easier then fighting it. Besides, where would he go, what would he do?

_Kill Gabriel; make him finally pay for what he did. Make him suffer as you did. _

The idea brought a sinister smile to the vampire's fanged mouth but it was idea old and worn and even now, after he'd been defeated twice by Gabriel, seemed to have little, if any, point to it. Everything seemed that way now. Life always has meaning, some objective or goal you wanted to reach before you die; but once you die and are force to live again, the world becomes grey and hazy and minutes slip by like hours, while hours flying by like minutes and deep among it all, Dracula sat, nothingness infecting his mind. Perhaps if he just lay hear long enough, he would simply vanish from time and space as if he never was and never had been. Perhaps if he didn't feed when Réhabah and Jahul brought another victim to him, he would waste away to nothing. Dracula sighed again. He liked that idea.

It was only moments later the wolves returned. How they got into the castle Dracula couldn't guess. But the castle was old and walls and pipes of it had many cracks and holes big enough for them to squeeze through. Jahul, the smaller of the two, had blood and froth on his massive red jaws and Réhabah carried a dead woman by the throat, blood staining his chest and face. Heavy padded footfalls echoed on the stone on the Great Hall before the wolves emerged into the hallway where Dracula had still not moved from. The vampire felt ridiculously weak and found it hard to pull himself off of the cold stone wall. Why did he feel so sapped of energy and strength? The wolf's came beside him, panting and their shaggy coats covered in sweat. Yellow eyes were wide. Snow and ice encased their fur. Their breath showed in misted clouds on the air with red tongues lolling out in-between white teeth.

Réhabah tossed the bleeding woman at Dracula's feet with a swing of his powerful neck. Blood smeared along the floor, still warm, for the wolves had run fast to make sure that it was still warm for their master when they returned. But to their surprise Dracula made no attempt to move. All was silent for a moment and worried maybe that their master had fallen so far that he hadn't even noticed them, Jahul nosed the bleeding carcass towards the vampire slightly.

Dully, Dracula sensed the warm crimson pouring out around the stone floor. The sight of blood caused a dwindling fire inside of Dracula to blaze weakly with hunger, but the vampire simply shook his head to the wolves. Even though a burning hunger in his body craved for the blood that was now being spilt so carelessly over the cold stone floor, he knew that it was prolonging what he only wanted right now. Death. True death. A death he'd never experience. The massive wolves whined slightly and Jahul rubbed his grey head against Dracula's shoulder, but the vampire still made no movement.

The corpse at their feet was now going cold and blood had pooled around the wolf's paws. Not knowing what had happened to their master or why he refused to feed, the Royal Wolves lay down on either side of their master whimpering softly as dogs do sometimes. Thick but soft fur warmed Dracula slightly, but he was too far fallen and covered in darkness to really take notice such things anymore.

Suddenly, Dracula was finding it hard to keep his eyes open, or keep consciousness about him and a cold darkness was creeping in to the corners of his eyesight. Warmth seeped out of the wolf's bodies and into his own, but it had a different effect the before. The warmth didn't seem to fill him and bring him the sense of false life. Tired he was, but not like before, not like the other times. This would be the last time, of that Dracula was sure. It was the end, but, surprisingly, he didn't care. Nothing was important anymore. Hope and light had long since vanished, gone like a brittle, curled leaf on autumnal winds. All he wanted was sleep. A sleep undisturbed.

A sleep to darkness.

A sleep to join the Great Goddess in the Summerland.

A sleep that he would never awake from.

_Sleep…_

.:I:.

"Why is it where ever you drag me off to, it's always cold," chimed Carl suddenly breaking a long silence that had settled in the air of the mountains. The friar shuddered for effect as he and Gabriel rode slowly through a snow-laden forest on the slope of the Carpathians. "Why can't there ever be any evil demons that need vanquishing in Malta?"

"And what do you know about Malta?" asked Gabriel as their horses crunched along through the snowy woods.

"I know that the Mediterranean is warmer then these dreary mountain peaks. Sunnier too." The little friar craned his neck back to gaze at the sky. Thick, pale grey clouds were smeared like paint across the sky.

"Well, I'll remind you, Carl, that you were the one who came out here of your own free will," Gabriel raised an eyebrow and smirked at his friend.

"Only to save a certain someone's skin!"

Gabriel was about to reply, when he felt something cold and wet fall onto his hand. He raised his hand from its grip on the reins and examined it. A drop of cold water landed on the back of his hand. He looked back up at the sky and held out a hand, testing the air. Tiny needle-like raindrops fell from the sky. Sparse at first, but slowly were beginning to strengthen. The painted clouds above them seemed to be darkening as the rain began to fall harder. A storm was coming.

"Rain," said Carl blankly. "How appropriate."

And rain it did. Lightly at first, steadily building and slowing in a rhythmic downfall, but then in blinding sheets. Lightning would break the sky at harsh and jagged angles and thunder would sweep through the forest, shaking the trees to their gnarled, frozen roots. In an attempt to find what little refuge they could, Carl and Gabriel's luck took a surprisingly good turn. When they were walking along, huddling close to a cliff face for some form of shelter, the two stumbled upon a shallow cave in the cliff face. They quickly ducked in, both soaking and brought the horses in as well, for the cave was big enough for them and the burdened beasts were weary and wet.

Carl sank down against the curved wall of the cave, looking around and observing the small hole. "Why is it that everywhere we go, it's dark and cold?"

"Didn't we have this conversation before the storm?"

"I'm serious! Why is it that the sun hides from us where ever we go? And why can't we ever stay in a normal building?"

"Would the Taj Mahal be more suitable Lord Carl?" Gabriel said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he untied two bedrolls from the horses.

The little friar's eyes lit up at the thought, "Actually, it quite would be!"

If looks could kill Carl would be dead five times over with the glare Gabriel shot at him from the other side of cave. The friar quickly shut up.

Gabriel tossed Carl his bedroll with a substantial amount of force. Clumsily, Carl caught it and unrolled on the rocky floor of the cave. Outside, rain and lighting continued to pound the now feeble-seeming mountains. Water dripped from the mouth of the cave and collected in snowy, muddy, pools at the entrance. Carl frowned, it didn't seem like the storm would be letting up any time soon, if anything, it seemed to be growing stronger.

"We should get some sleep. We'll be leaving as soon as the rain eases up," said Gabriel, laying down with his coat spread out over him. Carl just nodded and lay down to sleep. The monotonous drumming of the rain was soothing spare the blast of lightning that broke the pounding every so often. But Gabriel lay awake for some time. Worried to fall asleep. If he fell asleep, would the dreams return? He shuddered at the thought. Terrible dreams that he could remember, and yet, the thought of them made his blood chill and his mind throb. Not for the first time he questioned the whole sanity of what he was doing. It seemed so foolish when one stepped back to look at it. What was he chasing, what was making him continue onward like this? It seemed like madness.

_Just go to sleep…_

.:I:.

_"So what are you going to tell, Vlad?"_

_"The same thing I told you," replied Eldan, flipping quickly through the parchments on his desk. "I think he will understand better then anyone."_

_Gabriel rubbed his hand over his face, "I still think you're mad."_

_Eldan shrugged, "Perhaps I am. But if I am right, then more then my sanity is in threat."_

_"You really do believe in these…werewolves?"_

_"Right now, yes."_

_Gabriel sighed and peered over Eldan's shoulder, "What are you looking for?"_

_"That book that you had the other night, the one with the painting in it." That moment Eldan snatched a leather-bound book with brown, dried parchment pages. "This is it."_

_Gabriel sighed and turned his gaze out to the window of the healing room. The valley outside was still blanketed in thick snow, "Has Vlad returned yet?"_

_"The sentries at the edge of the valley said they'd spotted the hunting part, so any minute I would guess."_

_As if on cue, there was a loud, harsh knock on the wooden door to the healing ward. A guard came in without waiting for an answer, his face, set and stern. Like all of those in the Guard of the Dragon, he carried a pike and was clad in black garments trimmed with silver. The symbol of the Dragon was emblemized in silver on his black cloak, leather wings flared and it reptilian face caught in a menacing roar._

_"You two," he barked, pointing his pike at Eldan and Gabriel, "come with me."_

_"Why?" said Gabriel, not partial to the guard's orders. Watching the Guard carefully, Gabriel placed himself between Eldan and the Guard, knowing how they did not treat the healer well. "Where are we going? What do you want us for?"_

_"Orders from the Dragon," barked the guard, harsher then before, "Now come. Your friend too."_

_With a glare, Gabriel stepped outside, Eldan, head-hung, close behind him. The guard shoved them both forward to get them to start walking. Gabriel glared at him again like a dog about to jump something, but Eldan kept his head low and simply followed Gabriel to where the guard was leading them to._

_They were led to grand hall which was also the throne room of the manor. Most of the manor's guards were present all dressed in the formal uniform of the Dragon. Gabriel's eyes quickly singled out those who he didn't recognize: several guards of a different crest than the manors as well as what appeared to be several slaves of that house. But the most eye-catching of the new visitors was seated next to Vlad. There was Vlad dressed in all his regal glory, beside him sat a young woman that neither Gabriel nor Eldan recognized. She was pale, even for Transylvanians. Her skin resembled snow, fair, like that of Eldan's but not so thin and as sickly as his. Her hair was dark and long, but tied up tightly in a ring of braids behind her head. Two large, glossy eyes were set in her smooth face and as she inclined her head to stare at the two men, a streak of deceit lay buried in her gaze that neither Gabriel nor Eldan was sure they saw._

_"Gabriel," Vlad began, not allowing for further visual inspection of the woman, "I'm assuming you're aware of Countess Yelvain. She's the daughter of a wealthy Ottoman Count, one very involved in the campaigns against the Christians in Europe. She and her father are visiting concerning matters on the pending war. These Europeans are threatening war on the Ottomans, Transylvanian is all that separates these two empires and it is no small secret we haven't the army to defend ourselves if the Christians do start an invasion. I hope you and Eldan will do everything to make sure she is comfortable during her visit."_

_There was a thick silence that filled the room, then the Countess cocked her head over to face Vlad, "That one, the one you called Eldan, why is he so sickly looking?"_

_Eldan's cheeks flushed with blood and he tipped his chin to his chest to let his long white hair drip in front of his face. The Lady Yelvain laughed softly staring at the young healer with an intensity that made the albino tremble with discomfiture._

_But before Vlad had an opportunity to answer the Countess, Gabriel spoke, seeing Eldan's loss of composure. Though he hadn't the slightest idea as to the campaign of which Vlad spoke—he new of the war, but was unaware of anything so close at hand—he kept his tone formal with his friend for the guests in the room, "I'm aware of the Christian's intentions. They're threatening to slaughter Transylvania unless we join their cause. How does this relate to me?"_

_Vlad's mouth curved into a sadistic smile and his black eyes mirrored the deceit in Countess Yelvain's, "All in good time Gabriel." He quickly shifted the subject to his visitors. "Guests, I wish you all a wonderful night's rest, in the morning we will speak more of this campaign and discuss specifics." And with that, he dismissed all in the room, and before either Gabriel or Eldan could follow, he took the Countess's hand and led her from the room. Gabriel, thoroughly confused, moved through the bustle of the crowd to follow Vlad but was stopped short by the guard who'd fetched him. _

_"You're not leaving, the Dragon has requested that you meet him." he growled._

_"I have more important things to do then be subject to your orders." Gabriel scowled, he was not intent on go anywhere. "Get out of my way." _

_The guard seemed about to answer in the most unkind fashion, but something clicked in his mind. The burly man turned his attention away as if he'd forgotten something. Quickly he turned and spotted Eldan and cursed loudly. Slipping through the dispersing crowd the guard shoved the frail man against the stone wall, grabbed a handful of white hair and dragged him from the room. Gabriel stood shocked for a moment as the last of the people left the large hall, then quickly went after Eldan and the guard down the hall. As Gabriel closed the gap he felt his blood boil with ferocity. Without word, he tore Eldan from the guard's grasp._

_Instantly he realized the stupidity in what he'd done. A hard, blunt slam hit the back of his head and he blacked out for a moment, crumpling to the floor. In the back of his mind, he could hear the guard's voice cursing at him, as he were far away, then kicked him sharply in the ribs and was gone. Blackness enclosed him and he could only make out dark shadows and patches of light. Taking in a breath, Gabriel tried to rise but a thin pain in his side made him catch his breath. _

_Vision still compensated, Gabriel felt a thin hand slide over his shoulder, "Gabriel?" the voice was Eldan's and it seemed closer this time. "Gabriel, can you stand?"_

_The only response the albino received was Gabriel struggling to his feet. The Christian wavered, but did not fall this time._

_"He didn't hit your arm did he?" asked Eldan, knowing Gabriel's arm had only just healed._

_"No, I think it's fine." Gabriel's vision finally cleared, "Are you alright, Eldan."_

_The healer tried to laugh, "A few lost hairs, nothing really."_

_"Good." _

_More silence settled into the space between them._

_Eldan broke it first, "Should we find Vlad?"_

_"Not now, probably not until tomorrow or at least until we can speak to him without the Ottoman's especially the Countess."_

_"Do you think that's what the 'hunting trip' was?"_

_"Most likely. It was probably a cover; the better part of the nation would be less than amused to learn that there was a treaty in the works with the Ottomans. But you think that Vlad would have trusted us more than to lie to us."_

_"Do you think it was wise to invite them here?"_

_Gabriel shook his head and shrugged, "It certainly seems like insanity, but we both know that Vlad must have something deeper in the works. He wouldn't be so naïve as to open the doors for the Ottoman Muslims to overtake us. We are the only thing that stands between them and Europe. He wouldn't give that power away so easily."_

_Eldan's looked shifted to something distant, his mind was clearly far off, "A war seems the only option, but I keep going over it in my mind and no matter who would win this war, it seems the end for our nation. If we side with the Ottomans and fight against the Christians, I doubt they will not attempt to over through us once they are in control. They disapproved of our beliefs; we'd all be sold as slaves to the East. And if the Christians defeat the Ottoman's, then we will all be tried as heathens and crucified." At this, Eldan pushed his hair behind his ear, revealing a partially-healed bruise on his jawline and hugged his arms to his stomach. Gabriel grimaced inwardly, despite being so fragile physically and shy, Gabriel often forgot how strong the healer was in mind. The thoughts of war were something Gabriel rather let be, but Eldan did not shy away from such cruel thoughts. _

He must know nothing else, _thought Gabriel sadly._

_Running a hand through his long hair, Eldan touched his forehead, then his heart and muttered, "Goddess protect."_

_Gabriel smiled, "Come on, lets get outside, I'm going stir-crazy stuck in here for three weeks._

_Eldan forced a smile, "Alright, no injuries though, lets see if you can stay in one piece for a day or two. I am a mere human, not a miracle worker."

* * *

_

Ragweed: Hey, sorry if this chapter is not the best, but I needed to finish it. I promise, promise, promise, I will update better form now one.

Blesses be and peace out!


	12. Across the Barrens of Time

Wha…what's this! A second update? Could it be! Oh praise the Goddess it is!

So, this chapter is pretty Eldan-centric (Eldan fans rejoice! But not too much 'cause this chapter's not so good for the little albino) Oh, and this entire chapter is a flashback, it will become apparent why in the next chapter. So, with out further ado…the chapter…

* * *

**Crimson Stained Shards of Memory**

**Across the Barrens of Time**

'Sitting behind caging glass,  
Watching you watch me,  
And hating not you, but myself for it,  
I hate being a delicate shard of glass,  
Slitting my own skin,  
Unable to stop it,  
And I hate myself for it'— _'My Fault' _That Which is Dead

.:I:.

_Eldan loved sleep, he craved it. For him, the world of slumber was the only freedom from his own caged world. Dreams brought to him that which he could not experience in the physical world. Simple things of beauty he was barred from like sitting in the sun; he'd never once in his life felt rays of the summer on his troubled skin. He was too delicate, too frail for such simple things in the material universe, but in the realm of sleep, he was free to do what he wished and he craved that freedom._

_So the young albino was none too pleased when—for what ever reason—sleep eluded him well into the night until it the moon was past its peak in the sky and morning approached. Though it was not uncommon for sleep to avoid him, it didn't make him any less aggravated when he lay awake in the middle of the night unable to escape from his shell of a body. This was such a night. After several hours of restless sleeplessness, Eldan left his room with silent footfalls to wander the empty halls of the manor, hoping to occupy his mind with something before the day began._

_Eldan also loved the night. The Lady of the Moon was far kinder to him then the sun. He loved the manor at night, it was far more peaceful and serene at this time of night. Starlight filtered in through smoky glass windows, bathing the cold, soulless stone in a warm, ethereal silver glow. The normally sterile, lifeless halls were metamorphosis into a serene sanctuary of peace for and clam for Eldan; a place to escape from the fear he faced every morning when he was viciously ripped from his protected world of slumber. Rounding a corner, Eldan paused for a moment and stared down the large silver-washed hall, suddenly transfixed by a feeling he really couldn't explain. His body told him to be alarmed, that this was not a normal feeling, but the sensation was so convivial he really couldn't bring himself to be troubled by it, yet his mind told him not to be entirely entrusting with this bizarre impression. It was almost if something were attempting to appear friendly, but not particularly achieving this. Quickly, he shook off this sensation and folded his thin white hands into his silver robe and strode down the hall, settling onto a wooden bench that was laid against the wall under a heavy cloth tapestry. _

_Reclining onto the low wooden bench, the healer closed his pink eyes and rested his white head against the wall and allowed his mind to wander. Having the time to let his mind rove uninterruptedly was a rare pleasure for the albino and he drifted to a leave of half-consciousness. Allowing the rays of moonlight to relax his body, Eldan inhaled the cool night air and left his mind to roam. His body was physically exhausted and screamed for rest, but try as he might, sleep would not come. In the distraught purgatory between sleep and consciousness Eldan didn't even notice another person enter his proximity._

_"Why do you wander, healer?" a sweet, velvet voice reached Eldan's ears._

_The healer snapped his eyes open with a jolt and immediately spotted a dark slender figure leaning against the wall just down the hall with piercing, almost glowing, eyes staring right at him. The figure rose and crossed through the moonlight towards him. Even in the dim light, Eldan recognized her as Countess Yelvain who had only arrived that afternoon, and a dart of confusion struck his mind. What would she being doing wandering the halls at this hour of the night._

_"Why do you wander, healer, in the dead of night," she repeated. "Do you too seek solace among the stars?"_

_"I couldn't sleep." Eldan felt bizarrely blamed for something, as if he needed to explain himself to this woman._

_Lady Yelvain caught the healers tense tone and laughed softly, "No need to fear me, healer. I am foreign to this land. I have no grounds on which to judge you. You need not be so nervous." She moved and sat beside him._

_Eldan noted how different she looked from that afternoon. Her hair was free and fell in thick locks around her waist and there was a smile upon her lips, but the same, cold smear beneath her eyes was very apparent to the healer and it made him tense. He did not feel right staring at her and fixed his pink eyes onto the floor._

_There was silent for a moment, then the woman's voice infected his ears with a sweet bitterness, "You are very beautiful in the moonlight, healer."_

_Eldan felt his cheeks flame and he slouched forward, keeping his eyes firmly glued to the floor. Fidgeting, he pushed stray strands of hair behind his ear, not remembering the marring bruise on his jawline that had not yet healed. Lady Yelvain visible stiffened and reached out in curiosity, placing two fingers under Eldan's chin. Eldan, realizing what he'd just revealed, jolted visibly and quickly released his long hair and let it cascade down his face. _

_"May I get you anything, my Lady?"_

_"Why are you so sickly and pale, healer?"_

_Eldan's white skin flushed with blood, he couldn't bring himself to say anything and continued to stare at the ground._

_When she received no answer Yelvain's tone darkened, "I asked you a question, healer."_

_Eldan remained silent a lit longer trying to put together something to say, then he spoke, "It is not known. I have no colour and no strength. The sun blinds me. Most think me of me as evil, or some form of oversight of the Goddess."_

_"You keep away from the sun? How can you live without the sun?" The question was not compassionate, but scrutinizing and cold._

_"The sun pains me, I really can't say it saddens me, I have dwelt in shadows all my life, I really can't miss something if I never had it in the first place. I must lose something in order to gain. Is that not the most basic law of nature: one cannot gain anything without offering something up in return. And I cannot offer anything, so I have nothing to loose."_

_"Do you always speak of yourself in such lowly terms, as a mere object of the universe?"_

_"Am I nothing but?"_

_"So your religion draws no borders between humans and beasts?"_

_"No, I suppose we do not. We to do not impose anything divisions, nothing past the natural borders of species. After all"—Eldan placed a palm at the base of his neck—"am I not part of those beasts? When my life ends, my body is left behind and is destined to do nothing but rot into the soil. Then that soil will grow plants. Those plants will feed animals, which I, in turn will eat for food. An all encompassing in part of a great, cycling flow of energy that not one of its components is aware of. Alone, these different components are stagnant, but the culmination of these parts creates the universe. Without one, the others will fall. So, I suppose, I cannot see these borders you suggest lies between us."_

_Lady Yelvain was silent for a moment, harshly studying the healer with dark eyes. Not finding whatever she was looking for in the albino, she sighed and reclined against the tapestry hanging on the wall behind her, "Well said healer. I can see the passion for you faith."_

_"Should not everyone have a passion for what they believe?"_

_"To harbor such a strong passion for that which cannot be proven as fact, does it not seem foolish to you?"_

_Eldan stared at Lady Yelvain, pale eyes widened in shock and confusion. Returning the albino's stare with an unforgiving, but somehow not a completely hostile, gaze, the Lady went on, "You're a man of logic and science. How can one prove you religion—any religion—has any grounds at all?"_

_"Religion cannot not be proven as something material, it is something you must believe."_

_Lady Yelvain laughed harsh. "Ha! Believe? Believe in what?" The woman closed her eyes, "Believe that if you pray hard enough, polish the altar enough times, that some divine being will alight from the sky and all will be saved? I'm sorry, but I do not see the point in believing in something you can't even be sure exists. I would much rather pursue my own endeavors and not tie my life down to the will and worship of some all-powerful being that cannot see the difference between a wolf and a human."_

_Eldan was stung by the words, but he did his best not let it show, "But, Lady, do you not have your own religion? You're the daughter of an Ottoman Count, do you not follow your native religion?"_

_"I humor my father and his company, nothing more. I can sing and praise and worship, but if I do not _believe _in the faith these prayers go to, I do not feel guilt."_

_"You feel no guilt for forsaking your creator? Do you not fear for your soul once you die?" Eldan could not put this woman's logic together in his mind. Surely she could not believe in only the material, that nothing existed beyond what was tangible and what was visible._

_The Countess slit an eye open to stare at Eldan, "You misunderstand healer. I have not forsaken my creator, there _is no creator_."_

_The statement was sudden, like a slap to Eldan._

_The Lady went on, "My body is a composition of earthly materials. When I die, my body will rot and feed the grass, as you said. It is a cycle, but it is not one controlled by anything divine, it manages itself. People take the universe for granted simply because it works so well without any intervention on their part. People cannot stand the fact that the whole grand world works around them without their help. That it was working before they were on this earth and it work long after they've left. So the first people thought, 'Things do not always work well for me, yet the world stays intact in perfect cycle and balance. There must be something else pulling strings from somewhere unseen.' And that is where the theory of God was first born." _

_Lady Yelvain glanced and the young healer, then rose, "Morning is coming, I am returning to my room. Goodnight, healer."_

_And with nothing more, the Countess slipped down the hall, disappearing around the corner, leaving Eldan horribly cold inside._

* * *

Can we say 'short'! Again, everyone, I'm sorry for the utter lack of story happening. Things have been rather hectic, but I have not abandoned the story! Stuff will happen, you just wait! I promise, promise, PROMISE, that the next update will kick this updates ass.

Peace out my man…till next time.


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